


A Perfect Arrangement

by hpjk_addict



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Arranged Marriage, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Friends to Lovers, Historical, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:06:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26309029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpjk_addict/pseuds/hpjk_addict
Summary: Regency England...Dean Winchester, having inherited his father’s estate upon the latter’s death, has been enjoying the life of a country gentleman, sharing its simple toils and pleasures with his dear friend and confidant Reverend Castiel.Dean’s younger brother, Sam, who seeks to repair their relationship now that their father is gone, wishes to see his brother happy, which, according to him, equates to finding him a wife. So he urges Dean to come to London in order to look for a suitable match while partaking in its season.Dean doesn’t really want a wife, but being in love with his dearest male friend is a dangerous occupation and pursuing a relationship that can have them both imprisoned or even executed is out of the question.Thus the true nature of their feelings for each other remains unspoken – until Dean’s past, in the face of a former lover, shatters their status quo.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Charlie Bradbury/Gilda, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester, John Winchester/Mary Winchester
Comments: 13
Kudos: 102
Collections: SPN Regency Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had fun working on this short Regency story, so I hope you'll enjoy reading it! I was extremely lucky to work together with verobatto-angelxhunter, because her art is absolutely amazing!

Dean Winchester rarely succeeded in concealing his worries from his dear friend, so that when the latter joined him that evening by the fire (as was their long-standing custom) and promptly asked him what was troubling him, the only point that truly surprised Dean was that it took Castiel barely a second to notice that something was.

“What a devilish sharp eye you have, Cas!” Chuckling and shaking his head in amusement, Dean handed him a tumbler and resumed his seat in an armchair next to the usual one his visitor had already taken. “I suppose one must have in order to detect sinners from the pulpit, eh?” Dean winked, stretching his legs towards the hearth and taking a slow sip of his own drink.

Castiel shook his head. “Dean,” he said gravely, “you know that this is not why I took orders.”

“I know, Cas, I know. I’m just teasing you, man!”

Dean patted him on the knee.

Castiel nodded, taking a long sip and squinting thoughtfully at his friend. “You often do. Yet, I confess, I can rarely tell.”

Dean laughed. “Don’t despair, my friend! I can assure you that you have become much better at detecting it.”

Castiel raised an enquiring eyebrow and gave him a look that plainly said that he didn’t believe him.

“I suppose you will just have to take my word for it,” said Dean with a grin.

“Then I will,” replied his friend candidly. “I have never known you to lie.”

Dean fought a strong desire to blush as he always did whenever Castiel paid him a compliment.

“I hope you will pay me in kind then and tell me what your secret is,” he said to cover up the fact.

“My secret?” Castiel frowned, looking puzzled. “To what secret are you referring to, Dean? I’m afraid I don’t understand your meaning.”

“Come on, Cas! How _did_ you know that something was troubling me? You could not have had more than a glimpse at my face as you entered the room before asking me about it. Moreover, considering the present lighting, I wonder that you could see anything at all!”

“Ah…” Castiel gave Dean a rare mischievous grin. “I believe you can thank – or blame – my hearing for that. I could hear you sigh heavily as I was coming here, so I knew that something must be troubling you even before I set foot inside the room.”

Dean laughed, shook his head, and proceeded to sip his drink, enjoying companionable silence that followed. Castiel didn’t press him to speak, waiting patiently for when Dean would be ready to confide in him.

Dean often marveled at their perfect understanding; sometimes it was so profound it transcended the need for words. He sighed into his glass, wondering why life couldn’t be that simple all the time. It would certainly be much more enjoyable and satisfying if he could spend it with Castiel by his side.

“I received a letter from Sam today,” he said at length, moving his hand towards a round table on his other side, where the aforementioned letter was lying unsealed and unfolded.

Castiel nodded but did not offer any commentary to address that cryptic pronouncement, knowing that Dean wasn’t done introducing the subject of their conversation.

Dean sighed and continued: “He wants me to come to London this winter and attend Lady Milton’s ball.”

Castiel nodded again. “By that I assume that your brother has not yet given up hope of seeing you married to her daughter?” he asked.

“I’m afraid not.”

“But I shall hazard a guess and suggest that you have no intention of courting her?”

Dean shook his head. “I would hate to give rise to expectations it would not be in my power to fulfill,” he replied. “Lady Anna is a lovely lady but I am convinced that she is not the person I wish to spend the rest of my life with.” He cast an unbidden look in Castiel’s direction before swiftly dropping his gaze into his glass. “I do not believe that I could make her truly happy and I would not wish to cause her any pain by taking advantage of her particular regard.”

“Oh?” Castiel looked sharply at Dean. “I was not aware… Have you two been… ?”

“There was that one summer when we flirted most outrageously with each other.” Dean chuckled. “I suppose our conduct must have left a lasting impression upon my brother that he is so adamant I should court her now after all. I might have even considered making her an offer at the time. However, it was shortly before my father’s illness struck. I had to give up on my life and my wishes after that.”

“I’m truly sorry, Dean,” said Castiel softly.

Dean blinked, looking at him in surprise. “It was a long time ago, Cas,” he said with a shrug. “I barely remember those days.”

He tried to sound carefree and unconcerned; he even put on a grin. Castiel, naturally, had seen right through him.

“Dean.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry that you were forced into the position of a caretaker so young, so full of dreams and ambitions that were not allowed to take shape. But I understand that even before that you were in a similar position, taking care of your brother from a very young age, were you not?”

Dean nodded, passing a hand across his face. “After my mother’s... tragic passing… my father didn’t trust anyone else around us. He had become paranoid, convinced that her death wasn’t an accident. He dismissed almost all our servants and would not hear a word about nurses or tutors. Her death… it did something to him, Cas. He never recovered from it.” Dean sighed. “I guess we should have seen the signs… the onset of his madness back then...”

He looked sideways and, upon catching sight of Castiel’s furrowed brow, attempted to dispel his look of concern with an airy wave of his hand. “Devil take me!” he cried, slapping himself on the knee. “A fine evening this is turning into! Me bemoaning the hardships of my life! Cas, you should have stopped me before I became so maudlin!”

“Dean,” said Castiel in his impenetrably grave manner, “you are my dearest friend and though you feel deeply and keenly you rarely talk about what is troubling you. It is not in my rules to pressure anyone into confiding in me unless they are willing to do so whenever they are ready. Hence, seeing that you had certain things you wished to get off your chest, I believed it my duty as your friend, first and foremost, to hear you out and offer you the comfort of my silence and sympathy.”

“Thank you, Cas,” murmured Dean, choked up. “A refill?”

“Ah, yes, indeed.” He looked with some surprise at his empty glass. “I find myself rather impartial to your home-brewed ale.”

Dean beamed at him. “Hear! Hear! It is a rather fine brew if I do say so myself!” He refilled their glasses and took his seat again. “In any case,” he continued, “Sam has got it into his head that I have buried myself in the country and turned a recluse! He writes very dramatically that he loathes the very idea that I should be living all alone in this big old house. He mentioned ghosts of the past haunting these halls and memories as sweet as a rosebush and as bitter as wormwood and something else seeping through the walls.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “That,” he said slowly, “appears to be rather out of character. Most peculiar at the very least.”

Dean snorted. “Tell me about it! He should have become a poet rather than a solicitor if that is the kind of drivel he spews. He then reminded me that it has been more than a twelvemonth since father’s death and that I have been mourning him long enough and that I should cast away my mourning this instant and rejoin the world of the living. Now, apparently, I must throw myself headfirst into all amusements and diversions of the season until I find myself a wife.” Dean snorted. “I’m not sure that I can do that though. I’m not that young and carefree buck I once was. I can hardly imagine myself galavanting about town, looking for a wife and a good time in between. Quiet country life is my lot now!”

Dean was four-and-twenty when his father’s malady became too grave to ignore. They could no longer pretend that his frequent spells of fury were the result of indigestion or spleen or that a few turns of blood-letting would do the trick. It had become too dangerous to leave John Winchester to his own devices without someone looking after him, for his actions were sudden and unpredictable.

Having spent the five years that followed taking care of a vicious and paranoid man, whose condition and temper were growing progressively worse, left an unmistakable mark upon Dean’s disposition and character. He had grown wary. Tired. His heart was particularly heavy, crisscrossed with the scars of pain inflicted upon him by his father’s harsh words with a skin-breaking precision of a horsewhip.

But for the last three years he found his greatest comfort in Castiel, who received a living in their parish upon the death of their old vicar and who gradually became Dean’s close friend, confidant, and solace. Dean did not wish to change that! He was quite content with how matters stood between them and bringing home a wife he could never love (because his heart belonged to another) would change the order of things and ruin their comfortable existence. He could not lose Cas!

“Penny for your thoughts?” Dean asked, noting a look of concentration upon his face. He knew that his friend had something to say to him and sure enough –

“I do not know your brother as well as you do, of course,” began Castiel slowly. “In fact, my knowledge of his character is based entirely on what you have been telling me of him.”

“Because he didn’t think it worth his while to bring his ungrateful arse here these past three years at least,” muttered Dean under his breath.

“I think that as invested as he must be in your well-being,” continued Castiel, “he simply wants you to find happiness, comfort, and companionship that you have been so unfairly deprived of throughout most of your life due to circumstances beyond anyone’s control. It is also important to consider that as someone who not only left home to pursue his own career – ”

“ – at the very first opportunity too – ”

“ – but who was also fortunate enough to find his perfect match and marry relatively young, while you stayed behind to take care of your ailing father and manage the estate – ”

“The estate I was to inherit,” interrupted Dean. “It was my natural duty as his firstborn and heir to stay behind and take care of everything! I would not have anyone else run things around here.”

“Be it as it may, Dean,” said Castiel softly, inclining his head. “I am merely pointing out that once you took this double responsibility, you gave up on your life, and I am convinced that your brother’s insistence that you should find yourself a wife as soon as possible is due to the fact that he is experiencing a sense of guilt that you should have sacrificed so much for your family and that all you have now is a big old empty house and no one to share it with.”

“But I love this big old house!” exclaimed Dean indignantly. “It is my home, Cas! And between you and me, I have also got quite extensive grounds and husbandry,” he joked feebly.

“That is not the point I am trying to make, Dean,” replied Castiel firmly.

“I am not lonely,” muttered Dean. “I have you, don’t I? A day doesn’t go by when we don’t see each other! I have other friends too. Benny visits whenever he comes ashore. Garth comes with Bess and their constantly expanding brood between her confinements, turning the whole place upside down. Upon my word, just because I don’t have a wife of my own doesn’t mean that my life lacks company or comforts! I am perfectly fine with my life!”

Castiel gave him a patient look. “I’m afraid that your brother will not be convinced, Dean,” he said. “He will not see it as such if you should decline his invitation. In fact, your continuing refusal to join him will only solidify his conviction that you have barred yourself from all earthly pleasures.”

“That I do not doubt!” groaned Dean, putting down his glass and burying his face in his hands. “I guess I will have to make an appearance at that stupid ball after all!” he muttered, looking up again.

Castiel hummed under his breath. “I’m certain that it won’t be stupid and that you will enjoy yourself more than you let yourself presently believe. You deserve to be happy, Dean.”

“I wager I will enjoy myself there a thousand times more if you come with me, Cas,” replied Dean, leaning over the armrest and giving him a long look from under his rather long eyelashes.

Castiel coughed, looking away.

“I have no business attending balls, Dean. I am not looking for a wife.”

“That makes the two of us!” cried Dean, presently turning the full force of his considerable charm on him. “Cas, please, I’m begging you to come with me. You must come with me! Please?”

Dean didn’t take his eyes away from Castiel’s face. He could have predicted to the millisecond when Castiel would give in by rolling his eyes and saying in his gravelly voice, “Fine, Dean, I will come with you.”

Dean crowed in triumph.

Castiel looked faintly exasperated, though whether with himself or his companion it was difficult to say.

“You can stop batting your eyelashes at me now, Dean. If that is what you want, I will accompany you. I have not been in town since coming here and I would not mind the change.”

“Cas, you’re an angel!” exclaimed Dean, grinning at him.

“You are mistaken, Dean. I was merely named after one,” rejoined Castiel, keeping his face and voice devoid of any display of humour and making Dean giggle like a schoolboy just like the first time he had mentioned it. “I assume,” he continued, “that my presence by your side will provide you with an excuse not to lodge with your brother and his wife, which, in its turn, will deprive them of an opportunity to introduce to your attention many a marriageable lady they must have already selected for you.”

“He-he! Parade, more like!” cried Dean. “But, yes, I shall not deny that it is a material advantage, Cas. However, it is not a determining factor!” Dean winked at him and lowered his voice to a whisper: “Naturally, I trust in your honour of a gentleman to keep my secret safe.”

“Naturally. I would never betray your trust, Dean,” replied Cas, without a trace of levity or raillery that Dean had been aiming for.

Dean refrained from rolling his eyes at his solemn but endearing manner. “Thanks, Cas,” he said and heartily clapped him on the shoulder before leaning in his armchair with a content smile.

They spent the rest of the evening discussing their respective days and various parish-related affairs before taking up a volume of ‘The Vicar of Wakefield’.

“It’s your turn to read,” said Dean, opening the book and handing it to Castiel with a smug look on his face.

“Is it?” asked Castiel with one eyebrow raised, taking the book and studying the page before him. “Or is it that you do not wish to read this particular novel?”

Dean’s smile widened. “You know me too well, Cas.”

“That I do. Well. We might as well pick something of your choosing if you find my selection not to your taste. Tom Jones or Tristram Shandy perhaps will be more to your liking? I daresay I have read this novel so many times I know it by heart.”

He began to close the book when Dean stopped him.

“That is why I know how much you enjoy reading it, Cas,” he said. “We shall pick something of my choosing after we finish it. I’m thinking ‘The Monk’.”

He paused to relish Castiel’s shocked expression.

“Besides, I find this novel fairly diverting, especially in your rendition. There is something about your voice that makes the whole thing rather captivating.”

Castiel squinted at him. “Flattery, Dean?”

Dean put up his hands in the air.

“Why, sir, I speak nothing but the truth!”

Castiel shook his head, though his mouth was twitching. Dean grinned and settled in his armchair with a contented sigh.

“May I begin?” asked Castiel.

Dean waved his hand.

“Carry on.”


	2. Chapter 2

“For heaven’s sake, Sam, you managed to waste a whole sheet of paper on describing imaginary horrors of my lonely life on the estate, yet utterly failed to drop a single line informing me of your forthcoming arrival,” muttered Dean as he assisted his brother in handing out his very pretty and very pregnant wife from the carriage.

“Good day to you too, Dean,” grumbled Sam.

Mrs Sam Winchester, neé Jessica Moore, laughed and kissed her brother-in-law on the cheek. “Do not scold him, Dean,” she said merrily, turning up her face so that he could return the favour and kiss her cheek in turn. “Sam didn’t write that part. I did!” she proudly declared.

Dean raised his eyebrows. “It is very noble of you to defend your husband’s honour, Jess, but I’m sure I would know my brother’s handwriting anywhere.”

“But, you see, your brother only wrote what I told him to!”

“So it was your idea?” Dean roared with laughter. “I’m glad to hear that. I was beginning to fear that Sammy had inadvertently chosen a wrong profession to pursue.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s Sam,” he told him peevishly as he followed his brother and wife up the stone steps and into the house.

Dean grinned. “I’m as puzzled as ever – ” throwing an arch look behind his shoulder at his brother before conspiratorially addressing himself to his sister-in-law “ – to understand how such a lovely and lively young woman fell for my dour-faced brother with notions and manners of an old crone!”

Jessica giggled on his arm and swatted him lightly with her folded fan. 

She was indeed lovely, thought Dean warmly, admiring her pink-cheeked face, twinkling eyes, wayward blond curls, and playful manner. In fact, she reminded him a great deal of their mother and it suddenly struck him with blinding clarity that perhaps the reason their father had been so violently opposed to Sam marrying Jessica had nothing to do with her being from the colonies, but with the simple fact that she must have reminded him too much of Mary to be able to bear her constantly around him.

“I’ve heard it said that Sammy here,” continued Dean, shaking himself out of his thoughts, in a loud whisper as they entered the drawing-room, “isn’t half as handsome as his dashing elder brother, whose mere presence instantly enlivens the company.”

“The company, Dean?” inquired Sam with a snort of disbelief. “Do you mean the theatrical kind? For I would sooner believe that you took to the stage than that you keep any company at all!”

“I keep all the company that I need, Sammy,” replied Dean curtly, helping Jessica to arrange herself comfortably on the couch among an array of colourful cushions his house-keeper insisted on embroidering under the pretext that they provided the house with a touch of femininity it so thoroughly lacked.

“I dare say the very term ‘company’ is so very broad,” said Jessica lightly; “is it any wonder that we all have our own notions and ideas on that head? I dare say for some a good book or a favourite horse or a pack of hounds is already a company. For some it is a gathering of a few intimate friends. For others, though, a company is an acquaintance that constitutes at least a dozen neighbouring families that constantly see each other throughout the year. But if we are talking about London – ”

“My love,” said Sam, taking his place next to her, “at this juncture we can quibble about the terminology till our last breath and yet fail to reach any kind of agreement. That being said, I believe that Dean knows exactly what I mean.”

Dean was on the point of firing up and replying that he didn’t appreciate being reproached for his way of life in his own house when he was distracted by the sound of footsteps so soft that only his ears’ familiarity with them could have made him conscious of their approach.

He looked expectantly in the direction of the door just as Castiel entered the room, stopping short and looking perplexed at the sight that met his eye.

“Forgive me, Dean,” he said uncomfortably as he studied the couple on the couch with a slight squint; “I was not aware that you had company. I would have naturally announced my arrival in a proper fashion instead of so rudely intruding upon you and your guests otherwise.”

Dean snorted and invited him in, leaving his chair, taking him by the hand, and bodily pulling him into the room when his friend remained hesitant. “Don’t worry about it, Cas,” he added genially, “according to my brother what you see here can hardly be called ‘company’. So, really, there is no need to stand upon ceremony around us. Besides which, these two didn’t announce their arrival either. Must be the air around here or something...”

“Dean!” hissed Sam, looking mortified.

Dean looked innocently at his brother before smirking and saying, “I bet you would give anything right about now to be able to use the expression ‘We have company’ just so you had an excuse to shut me up. Eh, Sammy?”

Sam turned scarlet. Jessica shook her head, but she looked amused rather than reproachful. Castiel, on the other hand, looked quite lost. Dean took pity on him and quickly explained what they had been talking about before introducing him to his brother and sister-in-law.

“I am happy to make your acquaintance, sir. Of course, I have heard much about you from my brother’s letters!” cried Sam, standing up and vigorously shaking Castiel’s hand.

“Likewise,” replied Castiel solemnly. “That is to say, I have heard much about you from your brother in person. We have never corresponded. Your brother is a very generous narrator.”

“Good God, I shudder to think what he has been telling you about me!” exclaimed Sam dramatically.

“I can assure you that your brother has always spoken very highly of you. He is very proud of you.”

“Frankly, I hardly know why,” muttered Dean under his breath. “Jessica, I’m afraid you must be quite tired from the journey,” he said next, bustling about the room. “Here.” He brought her a pouffe. “Why don’t you rest your feet upon it?”

“Dean, I declare, you don’t have to fuss over me! I have not come here to be a burden. However, I cannot deny that it feels heavenly,” she said with a sigh, having followed his advice.

“I’m glad to hear it. I saw it work wonders on Bess’s swollen ankles after a long journey. I’m going to have a word with the cook now, but I’m afraid the dinner won’t be ready until six. That’s when we usually sit down to it. So how about some refreshments in the meantime? After that we can decide in which part of the house you’d like to have rooms prepared for your stay. I hope it will be of some duration? I have no use for most of them, you know, so I keep them locked and the house-keeper has the keys. But I can assure you that we regularly clean and air them. My only concern is the drafts. I’m thinking of having additional fireplaces lit in the halls to make sure that Jessica doesn’t get cold walking about the place.”

“Dean, you don’t have to go to any trouble on our account – ” began Sam, looking contrite.

Dean looked at him in surprise. “What are you talking about? You’re my family!”

“Nevertheless, I feel awful for imposing upon you like that. I didn’t consider that you might have plans or entertain guests… ”

Dean snorted. “Well, your letters plainly suggested that I have no social life whatsoever and that my only companions are cobwebs and memories I must be rescued from.”

Castiel cleared his throat, giving Dean a pointed look, which the latter ignored, enjoying making Sam squirm.

“Yes, well, I can see now that I have been somewhat – ”

“Somewhat, Sam?” asked Dean with a wicked glint in his wide-open eyes.

“Fine! That I have _greatly_ exaggerated the degree of your loneliness and seclusion. Happy?”

Dean smirked. “I suppose that will do.”

“In any case, we should have sent a word of our coming beforehand,” mumbled Sam, awkwardly spreading his arms. “I hadn’t realized how much our arrival would be putting you out of your way.”

“Sam, you’re an idiot,” replied Dean with an angry shake of his head. “If you had ever deigned to come to visit, you would know that I’m always happy to receive guests. Besides, this is your home as much as it is mine, for all that you treat it like a leper colony and avoid setting your foot here at all costs.”

“Dean – ”

“I must speak to the house-keeper,” replied Dean, hastily leaving the room before he completely lost temper with his brother’s particular brand of obtuseness.

Dean was shaking his head and snarling as he strode down the hall, his black glare and an oath that had tumbled out of his mouth enough to scare his maid into a fainting fit. “Blast it all!” he exclaimed as he kneeled down next to the girl and attempted to bring her back to her senses.

Later, he continued on his way, his errand half-forgotten; his fury unabated. Apparently, his clever younger brother was a complete idiot, who hadn’t the foggiest idea about how much it meant for Dean to have him back in their family home after so many years apart.

It was incredible that Sam was so utterly blind to the fact that Dean simply enjoyed fussing over his little brother and doting on his sister-in-law. After all, he was raised to do just that. He wanted to shake Sam and make him understand that this was his caring nature and affection for them both and not some ridiculous attempt on his part to substitute the want of his own family!

He had dearly missed having his brother in his life. He missed the close bond they once shared growing up. He missed looking after his brother, replacing their departed mother and their absent father and devoting years to his rearing and teaching, until, deciding what would be best for him, sending him to university to study law.

Dean had no idea at the time that Sam, provided with such an opportunity, would completely turn his back on them. He knew that these days Sam’s work at the Temple was such that he couldn’t often afford to spare the time in order to come down from London. But he could visit at least twice a year without any material loss either of time or money, couldn’t he? 

Dean snorted. Of course, he also knew that his brother wasn’t as attached to the place as he was, which fact he couldn’t help taking personally as it appeared to directly reflect his brother’s attitude towards himself, which, in its turn, cut to the quick. Sam obviously didn’t care about their family ties as much as he did.

In fact, Dean suspected that Sam preferred to stay away altogether, especially after that terrible falling out with their father over his bride-to-be that stopped all communication between them for the period of some years.

It wasn’t until Dean sought him out with the news of John Winchester’s grave condition that Sam agreed to set foot inside their ancestral home again. Dean had been deeply hurt that Sam had cut him out of his life as completely as their father, considering that he always took his side in any argument, and still nursed a grudge as big as their estate against the one person he had once thought would never leave him.

Dean had cherished hope that once the bridges were mended, he would see more of his brother and his future wife at the time – Dean and Jessica became friends as soon as they set eyes upon each other – and therefore was bitterly disappointed when Sam continued to restrict their communication to occasional correspondence, thus depriving him of the chance to have a family he actually wanted.

A quarter of an hour later Dean had arranged the matters with the cook and the house-keeper and, having worked himself up into towering rage, burst into the drawing-room with the following: “Despite the unexpected nature of your arrival, I am truly happy to see my little brother and his wife where they belong. Family, Sam! There’s nothing more important than family to me!”

“I say all the more reasons to find yourself a wife before the season is over then!” rejoined Sam with a smile.

Dean gaped at him, then threw his arms to the heavens and began to pace the floor. Jessica groaned and hit her husband none too gently with her fan. “I concur with your brother,” she said crossly. “Sam, you are an idiot! An unfeeling, thoughtless brute!” 

Sam looked from his furious brother to his indignant wife. “My love – what?!”

Castiel cleared his throat. “Dean, do take a seat before you break something valuable on your path,” he said softly. 

Dean glared at Sam, dropped onto the sofa next to Cas, and crossed his arms on his chest. 

“Samuel,” continued the clergyman as thoughtfully and solemnly as though he was reading a Sunday sermon from the pulpit, “I hope you will forgive me the liberty of addressing you on the following subject and will not consider me tactless or presumptuous – after all we have only just met – for suggesting that in your no doubt noble and earnest desire to see your brother happily married you might have missed a rather crucial point that he was making.”

Sam was now thinking over Castiel’s words. However, his brows were still drawn together in bewilderment some time later.

Dean snorted and shook his head. “For heaven’s sake! Did you ever see such an utter blockhead?” he muttered under his breath. “I cannot believe that I raised him!”

Castiel’s hand, suddenly descending upon Dean’d wrist in a firm grip, aborted his intention to stand up and punch Sam in the face. 

“The devil take it, Sam! How do you not comprehend, you stupid ass, that a wife will not replace my brother?” he hissed furiously instead, relishing with wicked satisfaction the look of utter mortification that appeared on Sam’s face.

“Dean – ” croaked Sam, looking horrified upon realizing what his words had implied. “I – I never meant – that is not what – you must know – I would never – Dean – ”

“I hope for the sake of those who put their lives and fortunes in your hands that you are rather more eloquent at court,” observed Dean.

“You are my big brother,” said Sam weakly. “I love you.”

“Yeah?” Dean snorted. “I must say that you have a rather peculiar manner of showing it.”

Sam was on his feet then, rushing forward and engulfing Dean, who had likewise stood up, within a tight brotherly embrace, which presently served the purpose much better than any words he could have spoken.

Taken aback by the ferocious nature of the embrace, Dean allowed it to linger.

Afterwards, while partaking of their refreshments, their conversation turned to inquiries after mutual acquaintances and old friends, interlaced with half-forgotten reminiscences, happy memories full of mischief and merry-making, and anecdotes pertaining to their childhood years as well as those of their early youth when they were inseparable. 

Jessica and Castiel followed the conversation between the two brothers with identical smiles of fondness on their faces – unless, that is to say, they were laughing so hard their ribs hurt at yet another funny incident one of them related.

“By the bye,” said Jessica during a rare moment of silence, “Dean, you should know that we are quite determined to name our child after you.”

“So you are certain then that you will have a son?” asked Dean in some surprise.

Jessica laughed. “Well, we shall find out soon enough, I dare say! However, we have talked about it and we agree that if we have a daughter there is no reason why we shouldn't name her Deanna.”

Dean’s eyebrows jumped upwards.

“Upon my word! There is no reason to go to any such trouble in order to please me. I shall take no offence if you choose to name my niece Samantha instead.”

Sam rolled his eyes and gave him an unimpressed look. “My brother’s little joke.” 

Jessica laughed. “Indeed! Sam warned me that you would say that!”

“However, it is too late, Dean,” Sam added triumphantly. “ _Alea jacta est_!”

Dean looked helplessly at Castiel, who was sitting by his side with a cup of tea in his hands. For once Castiel was not on his side. “I’m sorry, Dean,” he said, “I do not understand the nature of your objection. I am convinced that just like their excellent uncle, any child bearing your name, be it a nephew or a niece, would be an exceptional human being if they should be so fortunate as to inherit in addition to your name your goodness, honour, selflessness, fairness, and grace.”

Dean was already blushing and struggling for breath halfway through Castiel’s impassioned speech and an attempt on his part to fill his lungs with much needed air upon its conclusion provoked a most mortifying coughing fit.

A maid’s entrance at that moment, informing them that the rooms for the guests were ready, could not have been more timely as it provided him with a perfect excuse to retreat from the drawing-parlour under the pretext of inspecting them before he would allow his guests to occupy them.


	3. Chapter 3

After dinner, which was a long and merry affair, Jessica declared herself quite tired and repaired to her rooms. Sam took her upstairs but joined Dean and Castiel in the drawing-room for their evening coffee. As they didn’t have enough hands to play whist, Dean and Castiel sat down to a game of backgammon. Sam, having carefully examined the bookcase, selected a shabby volume he remembered poring over as a child, and settled nearby.

Dean had an inkling that Sam stayed behind because he wished to have a private conversation with him, if his constant glances in their direction were any indication. Castiel must have been thinking along the same lines, because he took his leave much sooner than he would have done otherwise. In fact, more often than not he would stay so late that he spent the night in the room that had long since become his.

“Cas, you don’t have to go,” Dean assured him as they walked down the hall. He was visited by an urge to grasp his hand; it was a familiar and insistent urge that he once again ruthlessly suppressed.

“I believe you and your brother have much to discuss, Dean. I know that I should have taken my leave much earlier. But – ” Castiel shrugged his shoulders. “I’m rather ashamed of my conduct. It is unbecoming a clergyman to be so selfish.”

“Selfish?” echoed Dean. “Cas, you are the least selfish person I ever met!” he cried.

“Don’t get me wrong, Dean. I do not believe that I am selfish in general,” replied Castiel seriously. “But I knew that it was selfish of me to stay when it was painfully obvious that Samuel wished to remain alone with you – and yet I did not leave.”

“Well, I can’t and won’t blame you for staying as long as you did,” said Dean, shaking his head. “I daresay the conversation with Sam will be rather awkward after all this time…”

“Yet you cannot avoid having it now that he is here, which is why I refuse to play the part in prolonging the inevitable and am therefore taking my leave.”

“Allow me to see you to the gates at least,” offered Dean.

“I would normally have no objections,” replied Castiel. “However, do you think it is wise under the circumstances?”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Have you met me, Cas?” he asked cheekily. “I am many things, my dear friend, but wise...?”

“Dean.” Castiel shook his head. “Do not diminish your abilities.”

Dean chuckled. “I have half a mind to continue by responding that I have not many abilities to speak of,” he said with a disarming smile, “but a storm cloud has already gathered on your brow, so dark I can clearly see it even in the candle-light, so I shall hold my tongue and you will let me walk you to the gates. Let me be a good host, Cas,” murmured Dean, looking earnestly at him.

Castiel inclined his head, unable to resist. “Let me not stand in the way of your hospitality.”

They walked in companionable silence towards a small side gate that opened onto a lane that, after some meandering, led to the vicarage, and, quite forgetting everything, lingered there for a good while in languid conversation that neither wished to put an end to.

Dean returned to the house in an exceptionally good mood, whereupon he was met by his brother, whose tall frame had suddenly emerged from the dappled shadows of the entrance hall and scared him clean out of his wits.

Dean, however, would never admit to that; he would deny till his dying day that he jumped at least a foot in the air when he heard his brother hiss his name, clutching at his palpitating heart in consequence of that. 

“Sam, what in the devil’s name do you mean by that?” he exclaimed as soon as he could speak. “Lurking behind pillars and accosting unsuspecting people like some common sneakthief!”

“I might ask you the very same thing!” snarled Sam, advancing on him and looking quite alarming with his face slashed by moonbeams. “What do you think you’re playing at, Dean?”

“Playing?” Dean stared at his brother’s tall frame in wide-eyed bewilderment. “I have not the foggiest – ”

“Did you think I wouldn’t know?” interrupted Sam, towering over him in the most affronting manner. “Did you think you could fool me? Conceal the truth from me?”

“Fool you? Conceal the truth from you?” echoed Dean. “What are you talking about? At least explain what it is that you are accusing me of!”

“I have seen you, Dean!” hissed Sam, his face contorted with fury. “I have seen you and your friend – _Cas_ – taking a moonlit stroll like a pair of love-birds! Do – not – deny – it! I saw everything with my own eyes – well – until you so conveniently disappeared into the shrubbery! Do not think that I don’t know what happens there! I would imagine, however, that you would have more sense than that! For heaven’s sake, Dean, you know how precarious such conduct is!”

“Sam, stop spitting in my face,” replied Dean coldly, “and consider carefully what you are suggesting here. I have no idea what you saw with your own eyes or what you have conjured up in that humongous head of yours. Frankly, I don’t care a toothpick. I’m half a mind to turn you out of the house this very moment. I would have done so without a second thought if it wasn’t for Jessica.”

“Dean, you know very well how dangerous such goings on are!” continued Sam, quite beside himself. “I’m begging you to consider the repercussions should someone see you two at it! Do you want to be tried at the Old Bailey? Do you want to hang for it?”

“Lord, I was not aware that they tried people for taking a walk with a friend these days!” rejoined Dean with a scoff.

Sam took a deep breath, expelled it rather noisily through his nose, and declared, “Let us not mince words, Dean. I think we both know that Castiel is more than just a friend to you!”

“Sam – ”

“Do not deny it, Dean! I have seen you in love before. I certainly haven’t forgotten what a disaster it was!”

If they weren’t standing in the near darkness, Sam would have no trouble seeing how pale his brother’s face had become.

“Don’t... you... dare… bring… that… up...” hissed Dean as he grabbed the lapels of Sam’s tailcoat and shook him like a rag doll. “You have no right, Sam! No right – !”

A tremendous wave of shame crashed over Dean at the memory of his youthful infatuation that could have ended in a scandal or a tragedy or both. Sam was wrong, though. He had not been in love! He had only fancied himself in love. He was young, hot-headed, reckless. It was unfortunate that the man he got entangled with had turned out to be a blackguard and a madman into the bargain.

“It was a mistake,” he gritted out, clenching and unclenching his fists in the rough fabric of his brother’s tailcoat.

“He had almost ruined you, Dean! It was an indiscretion of the most dangerous kind and it could have cost you your life!” continued to remonstrate Sam. “It was most fortunate that his regiment was removed elsewhere before – !”

Breathing hard, Dean released Sam from his clutches and took a step back. “It is foolish to continue this conversation where anyone can stand on the other side and listen in,” he muttered, not meeting his brother’s eye.

“I wished to wait for you in your study at first,” replied Sam with a huff. “But I wasn’t quite certain whether it would not be in vain… nor how long it would take you to return…”

Dean groaned at the implication. “Damnation, Sam! How many times – ! Nothing happened in that confounded shrubbery!” he cried and turned on his heels.

Grabbing the candle along the way, he stalked down the dark hall.

As soon as they entered the study, Dean poured himself a tumblerful of whiskey (he had taken from a well-stocked sideboard) and without hesitation emptied it down his throat before pouring himself another one. 

Sam, having locked the door securely behind them, was watching him with growing concern and a touch of distaste; he had never approved of the habit.

“I only wish to see you happy, Dean,” he said quietly, declining his brother’s offer of a drink with a resolute shake of his head. “I certainly understand now why you were so adamant about remaining in the country all this time. I wondered… I thought it strange – very strange – that you should not have been even a little bit tempted by London. I thought that the availability of certain – er – establishments you could have visited there would eventually draw you in… But, yes, I can see now that you have all the attractions and diversions that you need right here. The vicarage, I believe, is separated only by a lane from the manor grounds? Of course, quite convenient for conducting illicit affairs with its sole resident. Yet I would have imagined that even you, Dean, wouldn’t dare to seduce a man of cloth!”

Dean slammed his empty glass on the large wooden desk behind him so hard it shattered. Damnation! “I did not seduce anyone, Sam,” he growled.

“I find it very hard to believe.”

“I find it very hard to bear the sight of your sanctimonious face right now,” muttered Dean, crossing his arms on his chest and glaring at his brother. “I feel as though I am already being tried and I haven’t even done anything wrong!” He pointed an accusing finger at his brother. “I might not be practising law, Sam, but even I have heard the expression ‘innocent until proven guilty’.”

“Innocent!” Sam coughed significantly. “I would not presume to call you innocent, Dean, considering that I saw you lead a man – a clergyman under your patronage! – astray by inviting him to follow you into that conveniently located shrubbery.”

“For heaven’s sake, you are like a dog with a bone!” Dean roared. “I have not been leading anyone anywhere! However, I have little chance of convincing strangers at court of my innocence if my own brother won’t believe my word. On second thought, I suppose, a jury of strangers would be less prejudiced to regard my actions in this particular light in the absence of such condemning evidence that you possess of my past conduct.”

“Do you imagine that my conclusion was drawn merely on what I know of your past conduct, Dean?” asked Sam, sounding earnestly offended by his suggestion. “Do you think I would not allow for the benefit of the doubt in my own brother’s case, taking into account that his previous actions were the result of his youth and inexperience? You are mistaken, Dean! I would not waste a moment thinking of it had I not been supplied with the evidence of the present, witnessed with my own eyes!” 

Dean threw his arms upwards.

“Fine! I confess that it is not uncommon for me to walk Cas as far as the lane that _happens_ to separate our grounds from his abode. However, I did not plant that shrubbery there. (If it bothers you so much, I will have it uprooted first thing on the morrow.) Moreover, for the purpose of pursuing carnal pleasures! I dare say if that was indeed my intention, I would have proceeded to lead him astray within the confines of the room where he occasionally stays the night. By the bye, it is right next to mine!”

Dean knew that his words would provoke his brother to go into a fit. However, he could no longer listen to his groundless accusations without wishing to make him speechless with rage.

No matter the true nature of his feelings towards Cas – feelings that had developed so naturally he had been firmly in love with him before he became aware of it – not once had he allowed himself to overstep the boundaries of their friendship.

He had not intended to reveal Cas’s occasional sleeping arrangements, established during his father’s final and most turbulent years, when Cas’s comforting presence was the only thing that sustained Dean after tending to his raving parent, but it was definitely worth it for the look of mingled fury and horror that took over Sam’s face.

“Dean – do you have any idea – any idea at all – how that might be misconstrued?” hissed his brother, gasping for breath.

“Take a seat, Sam,” said Dean wearily, knowing that he would have to say more now that he had revealed so much already. 

San narrowed his eyes. “Why?” he asked suspiciously.

“Because I am going to talk and you are going to listen,” replied Dean sternly. “I don’t want you to think heaven knows what and I don’t care for you to hover over me like a pillar of salt.”

Sam looked taken aback. However, his brother’s tone of voice coupled with that hard look in his eyes (that he knew so well) left no room for arguments. 

They both sat down on a ponderous leather sofa that occupied the centre of the room, noting with mutual surprise that their uniformity of movements had not disappeared despite years of estrangement. 

“Frankly, it was never my intention to speak of it to you,” began Dean, absent-mindedly studying shadowed silhouettes that filled the room. “I wished to shield you from knowing the truth as much as I wished to shield myself from its burden upon my soul. However, perhaps, you need to know most of it in order to look beyond your petty observations and check your perception of me as someone so featherbrained and uncaring he would endanger at least two lives in pursuit of momentary pleasure in the bushes.”

“Dean, that’s not what – ”

“You weren’t here, Sammy,” snapped Dean, shaking his head as he thought back on the darkest days of his life. “You didn’t bear witness to what was happening to father. I never told you how bad it had become. I didn’t want you to know. He never really recovered from mother’s death. Never reconciled himself to the fact that she could have died in a fire. He pulled that part of the house down. But how could that help when his mind was shattered beyond repair by the knowledge that he had failed to save her? He started having fits… imagining things... Demons.”

“What?”

“He called them _demons_ , Sam. He convinced himself that _demons_ killed Mary Winchester. He couldn’t accept the fact that she had died in an accident. He started poring over books on demonology and witchcraft. Said that he was doing research. He began collecting occult objects – special daggers and protective amulets – and drawing traps.”

“Drawing – what?!”

“Traps. He got it into his head that he could capture the demon who took away his most beloved wife by trapping him within a special trap,” explained Dean in a hollow voice. “Half the rooms in this house are marked with what he called _demon traps._ I keep them locked. He used animal blood to draw them. Goats’ mostly. He would sneak out of the house whenever I was away, steal animals from nearby farms and _sacrifice_ them on the church grounds. He terrorized the whole village with his ravings. In the end, I had to keep him locked up. But, Sammy, taking care of him every single day and many a night too was taking its toll on me. I was cracking up. I... took to the bottle…”

“Dean – !”

“Castiel arrived about three years ago,” continued Dean doggedly; he was not in the mood to listen to any more of his brother’s remonstrances. “He visited us soon after he settled at the vicarage. He had been informed of father’s condition, of course. He came to pay his respects. To inquire whether there was anything he could do in order to relieve his sufferings. I suppose he took one look at me to know that my father was not the only one who was suffering or needed relief. I imagine that someone who doesn’t know how selfless and good Cas is, would suggest that it was in his best interests to make sure that his patron, on whose generosity his livelihood largely depends, was prospering. His visits, during which we talked for hours, became regular. He became a friend. His mere presence… well... it had a soothing effect on my mind. However, I won’t deny that there were times when that wasn’t enough. On such occasions he stayed during the night to watch over me like a guardian angel. To make sure that I didn’t drink myself to death or didn’t harm myself in any other way. If I didn’t suffer from insomnia, I was besieged by nightmares. I became rather impartial to laudanum at the time. I found that it cured them both. Cas did not approve. He was adamant that I should not make a constant companion of it despite the apothecary’s assurances that there was no harm in taking it as often as I required. Cas was right, of course. I would not be sitting here with you now if he hadn’t been there to guide me through the worst of it. Sammy, he saved me from perdition. Gripped me from its clutches.”

Dean paused, drawing breath and running a hand through his hair. “He is my closest friend, Sam. I can only hope that after what you heard, you won’t question the nature of my relationship with him. This is the only true account of it that I have in my possession. I trust you can take my word for it. Cas will, naturally, confirm my narration. If you find anything scandalous or reprehensible in such expressions of friendship as he had bestowed upon me or such infinite gratitude and sincere affection that I feel towards him… well...”

“Good Lord… I didn’t know…” whispered Sam, clutching his head in his hands. “Dean – I must apologize a thousand times! Nay! Not even a thousand apologies will suffice to impart upon you how sorry I am! I shall not be surprised if you find it impossible to forgive me.” He shook his head. “I should have been there. I should have shared the burden of caring for father with you. I should never have left in such a manner that would make you unwilling to confide in me or depend on my presence and assistance.”

Dean snorted. “I dare say a little remorse and guilt should do you no harm, all things considered, but do not get carried away, you hear me, Sammy?” he asked gruffly. “My intention in speaking to you of this was not to make you heap coals of fire on your head for turning your back on your family. I think that you have been trying to make up for that in your own misguided way. The object of my narrative was to show you the depth and the strength of my friendship with Cas and to prove to you that it was not some meaningless dalliance extended no further than a quick gratification in the shrubs. There is a profound bond that exists between us, forged in the fierce battle for my mind and soul.”

Dean fell silent, feeling so exhausted he couldn’t even get to his feet in order to pour himself another drink and moisten his parched throat. Sam did not speak again. Looking sideways at his unusually silent brother, Dean observed that he looked rather diminished as a result of his hunched posture with his head still bowed in shame and clutched unnecessarily tightly in his hands. Dean sighed, clapped him on the back, and suggested going shooting early the next morning.

“The woods are well-stocked with game,” he said. “But I rarely have the chance to partake of it. In fact, I don’t remember the last time I enjoyed a hunting party on the estate. Cas is not a fan of hunting in general, but I think he could be persuaded…”

Sam turned to look at him with an eyebrow raised. “I would hardly call just the two of us ‘a party’,” he remarked.

Dean was already groaning “you and your definitions!” when he caught his brother’s smug smirk.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam and Jessica continued as Dean’s guests for the next fortnight. At the end of which period Jessica was anxious to be conveyed to London in order to enter her confinement in close proximity to her trusted physician. Dean had know from the start that their visit would not be long and was grateful for the time they’d had, while cherishing a quiet hope that one day his brother’s growing family would make Winhall their permanent abode. He was convinced that London was no place to raise a child.

During this time Sam and Dean were often engaged either riding around the environs or shooting birds in the morning. The afternoons Dean usually spent going about his business, while Sam caught up with his correspondence or else took walks with Jessica in the grounds in clement weather.

Their evenings were spent playing a few rubbers of whist, discussing politics, Sam’s cases, Dean’s estate affairs, and Castiel’s observations on human nature or bees he was so fond of. Jessica, whenever she grew tired from her needlework, would sometimes play and sing for everyone’s entertainment.

Dean had informed Sam and Jessica on the second day of their visit about his decision to spend several weeks in London and their great joy at bringing it about was only slightly marred by the fact that he was going to take up lodgings elsewhere instead of staying with them.

“But how silly! I declare, what nonsense!” cried his sister-in-law. “Why should you not stay with us, Dean?”

“I shall not be going alone,” replied Dean. “Castiel will be accompanying me,” he explained when Jessica looked puzzled; “the poor fellow hasn’t been anywhere this age at least. I would love nothing better than to stay with you, but I thought it would be too much of an imposition upon your hospitality to provide rooms for two bachelors at the same time. Besides which,” Dean added, grinning and taking Jessica’s hand, “I imagine you will have your hands full with my niece or nephew by then.”

“I suppose you’re right, Dean,” agreed Jessica, looking dreamily at her rather prominent belly. “I have not considered that. How silly! But you will visit us every day, won’t you?” she asked next, gripping his hand in return. “I want to hear all about your many conquests!”

“My love, I’m begging you, do not encourage him,” implored Sam, shaking his head. “Dean should be looking for a wife – not an easy prey to beguile. I thought we agreed on that when we decided to persuade him to come to London.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Sammy, upon my word, you are such an insufferable prude! How precisely do you expect me to find a suitable wife without testing the waters first? Do you propose I marry the first female I dance with? Why; I would be a simpleton not to get a good look around before that.” Dean smirked. “I might as well have a little bit of fun while at it.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” muttered Sam. “However, I’m heartened by the fact that you will be accompanied by Castiel. He seems like a serious and sensible man and what is more important: someone you hold in high esteem. I trust that his authority will suffice to check your conduct should it become inappropriate. Perhaps, I should have a word with him on that head.”

“I’m confident that Dean’s conduct will be perfectly amiable and charming wherever he goes,” said Jessica, giving his brother-in-law a fond look that Dean eagerly returned. “He is such a distinguished man that any woman he should bestow his attentions upon will be delighted by the notice.”

“I am not worried about their effect on them,” rejoined Sam; “it is their short duration that is likely to offend.”

Jessica scoffed. “Do you imagine a woman would prefer to be ignored by a handsome man rather than noticed by him even if his particular attention should not last above an hour? Nothing can offend a woman more than a man’s slight, my dear, especially at a ball, public or private, where every beau counts.”

“Be it as it may, Jess,” replied Sam gravely, “I do not think that one dance or even two are enough to know one’s dancing partner so well as to determine whether she could make a suitable companion in the future.”

“Indeed,” agreed Dean with a nod. “I believe that dancing can promote intimacy only where the character of the partner is already known – otherwise the intelligence one is likely to gain during that time will be limited to whether she is pretty or ugly, light or heavy of foot, and whether her breath is foul or not. In addition, the relatively short distance will allow me to study my partner’s features and figure, learn the colour of her eyes, and detect such beauties and blemishes as she must possess.”

“How droll you are!” exclaimed Jessica, giggling and fanning herself.

“Droll?” asked Sam incredulously. “I believe the word you were looking for is ‘abominable’.”

Dean grinned. “Ah… there is one more thing!” he exclaimed. “Should my partner belong to a talkative tribe of females, I will most probably know whether her teeth are even or not. I dare say it is something to look for in a wife. A charming smile when one can afford to show one’s teeth is always attractive – even in the absence of sharp wit or good sense.”

“Nay; I do not believe that you will be happy with a pretty but silly wife, Dean!”

“Frankly, I do not know whether I will be happy with any wife I should meet at a ball,” he confessed. “At the very least I could choose someone I would not be averse to look at whenever we share a meal.”

“Do you not believe then that you should meet someone you could learn to love?” asked Jessica, wide-eyed. “I’m sure there must be someone to catch your eye and keep your interest in order to form a more lasting acquaintance.”

Love! Dean looked away from her penetrating gaze. If she could but see into his heart! He did not wish to have a wife – he did not need to have a wife to make him happy – but, alas, the world denied him the right to be with the one person who did.

Sam cleared his throat. “I would think the solution is self-evident,” he said.

“I am all attention, Sam,” replied Dean sharply.

“I suggest that instead of trying to find a suitable match within a newly-formed circle of acquaintances, you should consider looking back at your old attachments. I could name as many as five ladies off the top of my head who have always been quite impartial to you and who are, to the best of my knowledge, still on the shelf. Lady Anna and Lady Amara. Miss Robinson. Miss Harvelle. Miss Braeden. I’m sure I could recollect a few other names should I put my mind to it.”

“I’ll be damned, Sammy!” cried Dean, clapping himself on the knee. “I turned quite a few heads in my day, didn’t I?”

“You know very well that you did, Dean,” replied his brother, pursing his lips. “I assure you there is no need for false modesty.”

“I cannot help wondering, though, why they are all still unmarried,” said Dean thoughtfully. “Did no other man want them?”

“I would rather imagine that they did not want any other man! Or any man at all!” cried Jessica warmly. “Despite what men might think, marriage is not the only object women pursue in the course of their lives. Now let me see… I believe Lady Anna was in fact engaged at one time. However, I remember reading in the papers, yes, that her fiancé was tragically killed on the battlefield. Miss Robinson is actively supporting the movement for the abolition of the slave trade, which, I imagine, must occupy most of her time. I’m afraid I have never met nor heard of the other two ladies. They cannot be much in society or else are not so well-connected as to be talked about. Lady Amara, on the other hand, caused quite a sensation some time ago upon announcing to the whole world that she was on a quest to find God.”

Dean whistled.

“But what I find of particular interest,” said Sam before any more could be said on the subject, looking anxious and impatient to steer their conversation in a different direction, “is that despite the fact that you disappointed their expectations at one time or another, they speak with great feeling and very highly of you whenever your name comes up in a conversation.”

“I assume they are all expected to attend Lady Milton’s ball,” remarked Dean, wondering to himself why his name should come up in any conversation at all. Had his brother been going around playing a matchmaker on his behalf?

“Indeed!” exclaimed Jessica. “It will be a grand affair. A great number of people is expected to attend. I suppose the main object of the event is to try and find a husband for Lady Anna,” she added, “but a ball is a ball! I wish I could go… ” Jessica sighed; then cuffed Dean lightly with her fan. “I will expect a detailed report of everyone’s comings and goings from you!”

Dean laughed. “I foresee that I shall crumble under the weight of responsibility you have placed upon me before I ever set foot there! I suppose,” he added, “you will want to know the number of guests and their names; how many couples were formed and who danced with whom; what was served for supper, and what was the main item of gossip.”

Jessica nodded, her eyes twinkling. “Do not forget that I should also very much like to know what fashions in gowns and hairstyles prevailed! And jewels!”

Sam’s eyebrows had at that moment reached his high hairline.

“I begin to doubt whether Dean will have any time left for anything other than standing around and collecting intelligence for you, love,” he remarked dryly, “which, I believe, will defeat the whole purpose of his going there in the first place.”

“Sammy, why, do you imagine I should be standing looking around like some country bumpkin when I could be dancing with as many ladies as I am capable of until I sprain my ankle?” exclaimed Dean. “I dare say a dance is as good a cover as any for a little espionage. Besides which, making polite conversation interspersed with small inquiries on my part and gossip on hers will be a good chance for me to know my partner’s views on a number of things, which would determine (among other things) whether we suit each other or not.”

Sam looked suspiciously at him. “I see you have changed your tune, Dean. Quite different from the person who could not be persuaded out of the country!”

Dean nodded, deciding to be frank rather than to challenge Sam’s statement with another saucy remark. His brother deserved to know his true sentiments on the subject.

Besides, feeling that he had tried his brother’s patience long enough, he offered the following: “I confess that at first the idea of going away did not appeal to me. I did not wish to disrupt my routine and such relationships as I have formed. I rejected it. I was further disinclined to go upon understanding your motives of luring me to London. However, upon reflection, I decided that I should go and enjoy myself. I was told that I deserve to be happy. And I haven’t danced in ages! Perhaps, it is unwise to deprive myself of a chance, however insignificant, to form an acquaintance that could grow into something more. I shall certainly give it a try,” he said with a shake of his head and a sigh upon perceiving Sam’s beaming countenance. “I cannot promise more than that.”

But even giving that promise to his brother felt painfully wrong. Perhaps, because by finally agreeing – solemnly rather than in jest – to look for a wife he was betraying not only himself but that profound feeling that he was carrying in his heart for Castiel. On the other hand, he doubted very much that there would be anyone to make him question his decision to remain an old bachelor. After all, flirting and dancing at a ball didn’t always lead to an exchange of vows.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean and Castiel arrived in London a week before Lady Milton’s ball was set to take place, stopping at Berkeley Square to pay a short visit to Sam and Jessica before proceeding to their rented lodgings in Harley Street.

Having arrived late in the evening after a day-long journey, they repaired for the night after a quick repast and met the next morning, rested and refreshed, at the breakfast table laid out with their favourite things.

Dean immediately poured himself a cup of coffee and, taking a long sniff, began to drink with his eyes closed in blissful abandon.

Castiel put down his own cup of hot chocolate and, after a moment’s pause, during which he did not take his eyes away from Dean’s face, he observed that the manner in which the latter was imbibing coffee was marked by such devout worship that he had rarely seen in church. His next observation touched on the propriety of such worship in the first place.

Dean chuckled and opened his eyes and felt his breath hitch in his throat upon catching Castiel’s gaze fixed staringly upon his mouth.

Dean’s first devilish thought was to tease the prudish clergyman by suggesting that he could lean across the table and chase the lingering taste of coffee from his lips in order to decide for himself whether he was not justified in worshiping every sip that he took. Dean even licked his lips several times, which provoked Castiel’s cheeks to flush bright red, before stopping short and scolding himself when his brother’s scandalized person intruded upon his mind, screaming “Seduction!” at the top of his lungs.

Dean put aside his cup with an air of determined resignation so as not to invite further temptation to put Cas out of countenance and directed his attention to the rest of their breakfast. Toast, eggs, bacon, and rolls with jam were devoured with great assiduity.

Dean didn’t dare look at Castiel and knew not whether his provoking display caused him any discomfort or embarrassment. His own flushed cheeks were the result of thinking with great longing about Cas’s mouth on his own. Oh, what he wouldn’t give for the taste!

He was relieved when, upon finishing the food on his own plate, Castiel spoke up again, his manner composed and his voice bearing no signs of mortification. His next observation was as unexpected as the one before that.

“Dean, did you ever consider having your likeness taken?” he asked seriously, putting down his napkin.

Dean looked up from his crumpet with a frown. “I cannot say that I have. Why?”

“I’m surprised,” remarked his friend, appearing thoughtful. “There are portraits of your parents and your grandparents on both sides of the family as well as other ancestors at the manor and yet there are no pictures – not even a few sketches – of you or your brother.”

Dean shrugged. “I expect father wasn’t interested in continuing the tradition. He wasn’t interested in much of anything after our mother’s death,” he added, attempting but failing to keep bitterness out of his voice.

“Perhaps, you should do so now,” suggested Castiel. “Resume the tradition. I understand that ladies who are being courted feel more secure in their prospects, or, at the very least, more in love, when in possession of a miniature belonging to their beloved or betrothed that they usually carry around their necks concealed inside pretty lockets.”

“You seem to know quite a lot about the matter,” said Dean with a smirk.

“I dare say it would be a great pity if such fine features as yours should not be admired or preserved for posterity,” returned Castiel, ignoring Dean’s quip.

“Cas, you’re making me blush!”

Castiel sighed. “I was rather hoping to make you see the necessity of acquiring your portrait while you are here.”

“You are in earnest then?” he asked once he had overcome his astonishment.

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “Do you know me to jest, Dean?” he asked.

“Fair point.”

There was a pause as Dean pondered the matter. “I don’t know, Cas,” he said at length, shaking his head. “I imagine that if it comes to an understanding or an engagement, I will be obliged to endure my future wife’s attempts at drawing my silhouette or, should she prove a particularly romantic sort, my person from the back, staring moodily at some turbulent seascape with a chapeau-bras under my arm. I can only hope that her accomplishments in this respect should not be too exaggerated upon our acquaintance.”

“I was always under the impression that this particular pastime was a mere excuse for young people to spend time in an intimate atmosphere away from the others,” said Castiel. “The result, I believe, is not the object of the exercise nor should it be considered to reflect the skills of the lady. We can suppose that she would be too occupied receiving flirtations of the young man in question to pay attention to her work. I myself have dabbled in portraiture in my youth,” he added when Dean stopped chuckling long enough for him to continue; “I wonder if you would allow _me_ to take your likeness?”

“Cas, you sly dog!” Dean positively spluttered. “How come you never said anything about it before? I had no idea! Well, I’ll be damned! Are you good?”

Castiel inclined his head. “I am not bad. I have produced a number of portraits and miniatures in the past to general praise and approval of their subjects as well as their family and friends. I have not spoken on the matter until now because my parish duties and your duties about the estate did not make it possible for both of us to devote so many hours of natural daylight to what might be regarded as frivolous pursuit. However, now that we are here and at leisure to spend our mornings and afternoons in any manner we see fit, I thought I should put the idea forward for you to consider.”

Dean nodded. “That is understandable. But wouldn’t you rather spend your time while here enjoying pleasures and diversions of London?” he asked, looking curiously at his friend.

Castiel huffed in amusement. “Dean, I have never been much of a pleasure-seeker – not even as a young man. I can assure you I have no intention of running wild about town now that I am here. I admit I would not mind going to a theatre – should we manage to procure a box, which, I understand, can be quite difficult in the middle of the season – and there are some museums I am most curious to visit, yes. However, that is my idea of pleasures and diversions.” He smiled at the incredulous look on Dean’s face. “I wonder that you should look so surprised! Might I remind you that I have come here only because you entreated me to? I am here to keep you company and that is precisely what I shall be doing while taking your likeness. In fact, my only concern is whether you will not find the experience of sitting for a portrait the very height of ennui. I have rarely seen you stay in one place during the day.”

“I’m sure I can sit still for a few hours!” exclaimed Dean indignantly. “But you make an excellent point, Cas. I have asked you to come with me, which you so graciously did even though you had no particular wish to do so, and it is my duty to accommodate your wishes – whatever they may be – in return.”

Castiel shook his head. “Dean,” he said gravely, “make no mistake. I admit that the idea of going to London would not have occurred to me had you not proposed it. However, I have come here with you because I wanted to and not because I felt obligated in any way.”

Dean swallowed, struck by the vehemence of his speech.

“I know that, Cas. I know,” he said placatingly. “However,” he added with a grin, “it doesn’t mean that you can’t procure something out of this trip for yourself. _Quid pro quo_ and all that, my friend!”

“In that case,” rejoined Castiel, “I believe I must ask you to oblige my artistic palate by sitting for me.”

Dean’s eyes glinted as he smirked. “Aye, sir! It will be my pleasure, sir!”

“I am much obliged for your effusive cooperation, Dean. On my part I wish to provide you with a means of distraction while I shall be otherwise occupied.”

“What means?”

“Such means that, I confess, will benefit me much more than you in the long run. Nevertheless, I hope you will find it of some interest at least.”

Dean laughed. “I’m sure I will, Cas. But what is it?”

Castiel cleared his throat. “I have been... during the course of some years now... keeping record of some of my self-penned sermons and putting down such of my observations that have particularly struck me in order to preserve them in my memory and study at leisure. Occasionally, I would dilute these with lighthearted scenes of humours or touching nature and even a few sonnets. I thought that you could acquaint yourself with my manuscript while sitting for me and, should you find it noteworthy in any way, I was considering introducing it to the attention of a publisher while here.”

Dean once again found himself almost beyond words to express his astonishment at his friend’s various pursuits and talents.

“Well, aren’t you full of surprises today?” he exclaimed at length. “Methinks we should have made this trip a long time ago! Naturally, I will be honoured to read your manuscript.”

Castiel looked very pleased. “I was hoping you would say that, Dean. I am looking forward to your commentary on my work.”

“I don’t know why,” said Dean, rubbing the back of his neck and wondering that his cravat should be so tight. “I doubt I will have anything of value to contribute to your work. I am sure that it is excellent whereas I am a perfect savage when it comes to literary disquisitions. Perhaps, it would be more to the point to apply to someone who is better suited to provide this sort of comment – ”

“Dean,” interrupted Castiel, his voice low and stern. “I do not wish to hear you speak about yourself in this manner. I value your opinion regardless of your literary tastes or merits, which, by the bye, I have high regard for.”

Dean could not help smiling at that. “In that case, I think you might be prejudiced in your regard for them,” he said. “Must be my dazzling personality clouding your judgment!”

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “My judgment is perfectly sound, Dean,” he assured him. “Apropos which, tell me this: have we not spent many an evening reading and discussing the same volumes?” he asked. “Do I not then have sufficient reason to trust your opinion in such matters?”

Dean raised both arms in surrender. “I believe you do,” he proclaimed with a wide grin. “I take all my doubts back and bow before your expertise, for you are older and wiser, my friend!” he teased.

Castiel just shook his head. However, there was fondness and warmth in his gaze that made Dean’s heart stutter in his suddenly tight chest.


	6. Chapter 6

“I suppose you will need supplies now that you have resolved to turn me into a fine piece of art?” asked Dean once their breakfast things were cleared away and the street below had filled with typical hustle and bustle of the city that beckoned him so temptingly outside.

“I confess I was so bold in my expectations of your positive answer that I took the liberty of sending everything that I should need with the rest of our luggage,” replied Castiel with an apologetic look. “I dare say you wish to discuss our plans for today?”

“You are very astute,” said Dean with a wink.

“I aim to please,” replied Castiel with a bow. “So where shall we go first?”

“I believe there are a few places we absolutely must take ourselves to in order to announce our arrival in town. However, perhaps, you have made some plans of your own? Do you wish to leave some cards or make some calls?”

Castiel shook his head. “I am at your complete disposal, Dean. I have no acquaintances in London. My old playmates – orphans just like me – are scattered all around the world and I have long since lost touch with those of my mates who survived war.”

Dean nodded in understanding and commiseration; he knew that Castiel was left on the steps of an abbey as an infant, where he was subsequently brought up, which, Dean assumed, accounted for a certain oddity of his name, and that before taking orders he served in the militia.

“Let us take a walk and see where our feet will take us then,” proposed Dean.

“I fancy you have a notion where precisely they should take us,” said Castiel with a knowing look.

Dean merely smirked.

They spent the best part of the morning at Tattersall’s, looking at horses, before selecting a couple of handsome geldings for the duration of their stay in London.

“Now that we are mounted,” said Dean as their horses trotted along a busy city street, “we can look down upon every female we meet with an appraising look and certain arrogant skepticism that denotes two gentlemen on the prowl.”

“I was not aware that we were on the prowl,” remarked Castiel, amused.

“That does not signify, Cas! It is important to create an air of mystery about us while we are here. So that they see us and talk about us long before they know who we are. The rumours will begin to fly about two devastatingly handsome young men recently arrived in town; no one will know anything about us yet everyone will want to be introduced!”

“Ah… I see!”

“I think we should purchase a quizzing glass each when we are in Bond Street. Looking down our noses and studying ladies and their assets through the glass will further the illusion that we have come to find ourselves wives and thus generate further interest in our persons.”

“How great will their astonishment and disappointment be when they learn the truth!” exclaimed Castiel. “A humble parson and a country gentleman with four thousand a year will not hold their interest for long.”

Dean chuckled. “I suppose we will be despised less if one of us turns out to be a lord or a love child of one. Ha! I think we can use the latter to our advantage!”

“How so?”

“Don’t you see? We can use the fact of your obscure origin and spread it about that you are a natural son of an earl and that you belong to an old and noble family! What do you say, Cas? A past scandal of such nature always adds distinction to one’s character.”

Castiel looked positively scandalized. “Dean, we shall not be deceiving anyone!”

Dean grinned. “Oh well! I dare say our good looks and amiable manner must count for something after all,” he said. “ Besides which, I must point out (now that we are on the subject) that a rare female of sense looking for a husband would turn up her nose against four thousand a year – clear of land-tax and all!”

Castiel smiled. “I apologise, my dear friend. It was unwisely of me to assume otherwise. Winhall is a fine estate and any female would be extraordinarily fortunate to become its mistress.”

“That’s better!”

“However, I was merely illustrating how far we would have to fall once we enter Lady Milton’s ballroom and our names are announced,” explained Castiel. “I have rarely spent time in society without noting that there is always that one person who becomes the main source of information the others turn to. In my experience their intelligence is usually quite inaccurate, so that once such reports as concern you will start circulating the room you might turn out to possess even less than that. However, should our good looks and respectable character prove insufficient to hold their attention, I propose attempting to charm them with the power of our wit and conversation.”

“Cas, do not forget that it is a ball and we are more likely to charm with our readiness and eagerness to dance than with our chattiness.”

“Well, I certainly cannot disagree with the assertion that being ready and eager to dance is a material advantage at a ball, though, for my part, I would prefer to find myself in a quiet corner from which I could observe merry-making rather than partaking of it.”

“Cas! You must dance! I declare I will have you dance!”

“I dare say we shall see, Dean.”

“I bet my four thousand a year we shall!”

Thus amusing themselves with speculations and predictions, they proceeded to the shops in Bond Street in order to arrange for clothes and shoes and such accessories as they wished for the ball.

“Lady Milton’s is not Almack’s,” said Dean seriously, “but boots are frowned upon even there.”

They had lunch in one of the clubs (“Grandpa Henry was very fond of this place,” said Dean, leading Castiel through the doors and liveried servants of Men of Letters Gentleman’s Club) and then took a leisurely ride through Hyde Park, observing the fashionable crowd milling about the place despite a definite chill in the air.

Dean, though determined to maintain arrogant posture and aloof facial expression, kept dissolving into giggles every time he caught sight of Castiel’s raised eyebrow, provoked, no doubt, by his peculiar conduct.

At one time Castiel had to place a hand on the small of Dean’s back for the latter was giggling so hard he had almost fallen off his horse. However, the strength and the warmth of that hand did not escape his notice, making him quite light-headed with desire to feel its assured touch on his bare skin.

In the evening they dined with Sam and Jessica, shocking the former and amusing the latter with a rather vivid retelling of Dean’s antics.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean batted Castiel’s hands away and began to pull his neckcloth loose.

“Cas, I shall not let you set foot into the ballroom with such an ugly knot!” he exclaimed when his friend began to protest against an attack upon his person and cravat. “You will be laughed out of the place and that will be the end of it. Now hold still! I know just the knot you should wear for the ball.”

Castiel’s assurances that he was happy with the knot he had tied himself and that he did not wish to look like a coxcomb fell on deaf ears for Dean had already begun retying his cravat.

A slight spasm suddenly crossed his face, which fact, nevertheless, caught his friend’s sharp eye.

“Dean, I was not aware that you were still troubled by pain,” he remarked with a frown, carefully studying his face. “I’m afraid I should have foreseen that you would experience some discomfort after sitting in one attitude for so long. Perhaps, we should shorten our sessions from now on. I do not wish you to suffer because of my artistic ambitions.”

It was certainly true that Dean had found posing a rather tiresome and, as it happened, painful affair. However, he wasn’t about to complain about that when a) he could tell how much enjoyment Castiel derived from painting him and 2) he enjoyed being the centre of Castiel’s undivided attention and would take a little bit of pain over giving up the hours they spent in such a fashion.

“Or, perhaps, you could simply apply your magic fingers to my neck and shoulders in order to rid me of that intolerable stiffness and soreness that gathers there afterwards,” suggested Dean with a wink, giving Cas’s cravat an elaborate twirl before tying it with a look of great concentration (marked by the very tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth) into a complicated knot under his chin.

“In that case,” said Castiel, sounding rather breathless, “at the very least try not to smother me with a starched piece of fabric.”

Dean laughed and stepped back to admire his work. “Don’t grumble, Cas. Here – ” he took up a hand mirror from the dressing-table and brought it before Castiel “ – I did an excellent job, didn’t I? No one will take you for a vicar at a first glance now!”

Castiel nodded. “I dare say your fingers possess magic of their own.”

“Then let me work some more of my magic into your hair now,” suggested Dean with a smirk.

“I did not realise that there was anything wrong with my hair,” said Castiel, looking at his reflection with a frown.

Dean hummed under his breath and began to style Castiel’s hair forward until it acquired a particularly windswept look. “There!” he said triumphantly. “Look at yourself now. I bet you will make all the ladies swoon.”

“It is hardly my object in attending tonight’s gathering. Besides which, I dare say you are more likely to make them lose consciousness,” he said, looking admiringly at him.

Dean made an exaggerated bow. “I dare say my calves look particularly distinguished in these white stockings,” he said with another smirk.

“Indeed, they do. However, I fear that if we continue to spend any more time working on my appearance and admiring yours, we will be the last to arrive and all swoon-prone ladies will have already been carried away into secluded corners of the room on the arms of other gentlemen.”

“I’m sure that is not true,” replied Dean. “There is always a shortage of gentlemen, Cas. I dare say we will appear just in time to sweep the rest of them off their feet.”

“I begin to doubt that we shall ever be there,” murmured Castiel, looking at his pocket watch.

Dean rolled his eyes and picked up his top hat. “Cas, we shall be the first to arrive! It is mauvais ton!”

“I very much doubt that, Dean. We are going to pass a few more mirrors on our way downstairs and I am sure that you will not miss a single opportunity to check yourself in all of them.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “If I hadn’t made an effort to make your hair look as it does, I would aim a mighty blow right on top of your head for suggesting that I am as vain as a peacock!” he said indignantly.

Castiel smirked. “To be fair, Dean, your vanity is most justified,” he said. “You are very beautiful.”

Dean blushed.

“Are you familiar with the story of Narcissus?” asked Castiel. “He was a beautiful hunter who – ”

Dean’s eyebrows jumped upwards.

“ – fell in love with his own reflection?” he asked incredulously. “I hope you don’t imply that I remind you of him!”

Castiel put up his hands in a conciliatory manner. “I was just thinking that after painting your portrait, I wouldn’t mind paying homage to this classic scene by painting you as young Narcissus bending over a pool of water to admire his reflection. I’m sure you know that it is quite common for a painter to depict his model in biblical or mythological scenes. I wish to try my hand in something similar. I daresay I must avail myself of an opportunity while I have such a lovely model at my complete disposal.”

Dean was silent for a moment, blinking at Castiel with a slightly stunned expression. It took him a rather long moment to recover his breath at the possessiveness in Castiel’s voice.

“I know what this is about, Cas,” he said at last, putting on a carefree grin and slapping Castiel’s chest with his top hat. “I see right through your ruse, my friend. I believe you want to see me in a loincloth!”

Castiel blushed. “A most preposterous accusation!” he spluttered.

Dean wiggled his eyebrows. “Ah, yes! How silly of me! I believe you don’t want me to wear anything at all!”

“Dean – !”


	8. Chapter 8

“There is nothing quite like a ball,” whispered Dean in great excitement, leaning towards Castiel and speaking into his ear, as they made their way across a brightly-lit room of great size and opulence among finely-dressed strangers whose number gradually increased around them.

“It is certainly an interesting scene to be a part of,” remarked his friend, looking about the room with a thoughtful crease between his brows. “I must say that some of these headdresses are quite extraordinary and are rarely to be met with in the country. I believe I have just seen a towering bowl of fruit walking past and next to it an enormous turban with so many ostrich feathers and colourful jewels adorning it I had half a mind to offer my assistance in carrying it to the lady it belonged to.”

Dean chuckled. “Perhaps that was the lady’s intention all along, eh? In any case, I’m sure Lady Anna will be happy to make the introductions should you wish to make Miss Turban’s acquaintance. Or was it Miss Fruit Bowl that you preferred?”

“I think not. For one, I have not come here to be someone’s personal hat-stand. For another, judging by how ridiculous her headdress looks, it speaks not only of the lady’s unchecked vanity and extravagance, but also of her complete lack of sense and taste.”

“I dare say we don’t look too shabby ourselves, though we are from the country,” said Dean, surreptitiously looking down at himself.

Castiel nodded. “I think that your blue tailcoat and red waistcoat are very eye-catching.”

“Hear! Hear!”

“What did you say that red colour was again?”

“ _Coquelicot._ By the bye, I’m glad that you listened to me and chose to wear this yellow – _jonquil_ – waistcoat after all. It makes quite a splash with your dark grey tailcoat.”

Castiel inclined his head. “I could not, upon reflection, dispute your point.”

As they didn’t know anyone present, they took several turns about the room, observing and discussing the gathering crowd and attracting their fair share of inquisitive gazes and murmurs of interest, until the first dance was announced and Dean was obliged to leave Cas in order to join his fair partner.

Dean opened the ball with Lady Anna, who looked enchanting in her light green gown of sprigged muslin. Her long red hair was braided and deposited in intricate coils around her head, decorated with pearl-encrusted combs. Her large green eyes were bright with delight and her lovely face was glowing with excitement as they danced.

Dean could not help admiring her whenever his eyes didn’t stray in search of Castiel, who had chosen to observe Dean from a secluded corner of the ballroom rather than to dance himself; their conversation, whenever there was a chance to speak, was lively and effortless. 

Dean thought that she looked like a delicate flower with her porcelain skin and dainty figure and contemplated that he could imagine being married to her. Her smiles were encouraging and her gaze full of meaningful longing and he knew that it was quite within his power to attach her and secure her hand in marriage.

Her hopeful look and lingering handshake as they parted after the first two dances was an invitation to courtship that he could not ignore. However, neither could he ignore those reservations that he had on the subject of marriage and the fact that his heart and soul belonged to another.

Thus, deep in thought, he was making his way towards the table with refreshments, where he had last seen Castiel, when the sound of his own name stopped him in his tracks.

He had not heard that voice in some years and, turning around with a look of utmost delight upon his face, caught sight of his dear friend and childhood playmate, making her brisk way towards him, her face illuminated with felicity and her arms already outstretched to take his.

Miss Celeste Middleton (or ‘Charlie’ to her friends) used to live in the village next to Winhall and would often sneak into their grounds to play in their ample woods, until, one day, Dean discovered her there and became a ‘handmaiden’ to her ‘queen’ in their games in the made-up fairyland of Moondoor.

Charlie’s imagination was unstoppable and when she announced her ambition to become an author when they grew up Dean was hardly surprised. He was her first audience and critic and even helped her to get her first novel published under the pen name of Charles Bradbury.

It was set in a fantastic kingdom where magic reigned and danger abounded and her protagonist – a young brave woman of fiery temper disguised as a man – set out to have adventures on her own, which included travelling to an enchanted forest and saving a fairy from an evil warlock, whereupon the most tenderest of friendships ensued between the fairy and the lady and together they embarked on a sea voyage towards new adventures.

The novel enjoyed great success with the public, went into a number of reprints, and allowed Charlie such independence that a rare woman in their time could afford.

“Charlie!” exclaimed Dean, taking her hands in his and warmly shaking them. “I was not aware that you were back in England! I thought that you were travelling to some remote lands, collecting material for your next book.” He lowered his voice: “I declare I could not put your latest one down! Please, do not tell me that your next story will be set in our commonplace world rather in some magic realm or other.”

Charlie grinned and looped her gloved arm with his. “Dean Winchester! How stupendously delightful! I am simply over the moon! Oh, it is so wonderful to see you again!” Following his example, she lowered her voice before adding, “Alas, my friend, I was obliged to put aside my pen in order to become a hero and saviour in real life.”

Dean looked at her in astonishment. “How do you mean?”

Charlie smiled slyly at him. “Have you heard of Arkhmoor?”

“The largest estate in the kingdom?” asked Dean, raising his eyebrows. “I’m sure I have! Why?”

“During my recent travels abroad,” said Charlie mysteriously as they walked across the room, “I was so fortunate as to make an acquaintance and develop close friendship with Lady Gilda – the only child of the late Lord of Arkhmoor – who now stands to inherit the estate in its entirety under the dreadful condition that she should get married before her twenty-first birthday.”

“I assume that we are talking about the sort of close friendship that sprung between the fairy and the lady in _‘Hollow Forest’_?” asked Dean with a twinkle in his eye.

Charlie giggled behind her fan and squeezed his arm in a confidential manner. “Unfortunately,” she muttered peevishly, “I cannot marry her myself, which is why we have come here in order to find her the sort of husband who would not mind having her dearest friend staying permanently with them… ”

A sudden idea – no more solid than vapour – fleeted through Dean’s mind. However, before he could give it his full attention, before he could see it take shape, Charlie was dragging him across the room, where a dark beauty in a gauzy silvery gown sprinkled with precious stones was sitting demurely next to the fire, her hands folded in her lap, surrounded by a large crowd of admirers, her heavy dark tresses shining with pearls and cascading down her shoulders. 

Dean stopped short in amazement.

“Heavens…” he whispered; “I believe she looks exactly like the fairy queen from your books…”

Charlie chuckled. “Now imagine my own astonishment when I saw her gliding along a silvery garden path in the moonlight. I declare for a moment I thought that I had uttered a spell without knowing what it was from one of those obscure texts I had been studying and conjured her into being. However, once I ascertained that she was not a vision or an apparition but flesh and blood, I knew that I had found my soulmate. I’m dying to introduce you to each other!”

Charlie rushed onward. Lady Gilda, upon lifting her eyes and seeing Charlie’s swift approach, beamed so brightly her smile caused her many admirers to swoon.

Dean chuckled under his breath when Castiel materialized by his side with Dean’s name on his tongue and two cups of punch in his hands.

“Cas!” Dean beamed at him. “My good man, where did you come from?”

“From the other side of the room,” replied Castiel gravely, his eyebrows contracted. “I have brought you some refreshments.”

“Thanks, Cas!” Dean gratefully took the proffered cup. “Exactly what I needed,” he added after gulping down its content and taking the second cup.

“I have seen you walk this way with another young lady,” observed Castiel. “Am I correct in assuming that you have already procured another dancing partner for yourself?”

“Better, Cas! I have met an old friend of mine I haven’t seen in a few years!” said Dean excitedly. “Let me introduce you!”

At that moment Charlie and Lady Gilda approached them and the introductions were made. Charlie looked with great interest at Castiel before giving Dean a look that plainly told him that she wanted to know everything that there was to know. Dean could only smile in return.

The music started playing and the dancers hurried to form a line. Having discovered that the two ladies were not engaged for the next two dances, Dean declared that they should all dance and the four young people immediately took their place in the set. Dean stood up with Charlie and Castiel stood up with Lady Gilda.

“Dean Winchester,” said Charlie as soon as they were dancing together, “I believe you owe me a love tale of your own!”

Dean laughed. “I assure you my love tale will pale in comparison with yours, for there is really not much to tell. However,” he added when, after several figures that included twirling and circling with the others, the dance brought them together again, “your friend’s predicament has given me an idea that upon consideration could prove – ” his thoughtful gaze lingered on Castiel and his partner walking down the set, “ – a solution for all of us.”

Charlie’s eyebrows jumped upwards. “Dean!” she whispered excitedly.

Dean shook his head in warning.

“I cannot say more on the subject at the moment,” he said upon catching Charlie’s hand in his and twirling her around. “I’m aware that Lady Gilda will have no lack of male suitors wherever she goes. For all I know she might even find some of them acceptable. I can only hope that you will carefully consider each option and that… perhaps…”

“Dean Winchester, do you have an offer to make?” asked Charlie with a grin and a twinkle in her eye. “I believe you have!”

“I have nothing at the moment. Truly, I cannot tell you anything. Not until I have spoken… not until I know for certain…” Dean took a deep breath and shook his head; his hands were trembling. “In short,” he added, having pulled himself together by reminding himself to keep his mind on the dance before they caused a disruption by turning in the wrong direction or spinning out of turn, “I must ask you not to rush into choosing a husband for your friend.”

Charlie nodded. Dean fell silent. His mind was in the state of deepest perturbation as he thought about the chance he had been given and what it could mean for his future. Of course, it would mean nothing at all if Castiel didn’t share his sentiments or if he considered such innocent deception unacceptable.

In fact, the very thought of breaching the subject that could bring about the end of their friendship and ruin everything they had built over the years made Dean’s heart break and bleed in his chest. He could not lose Castiel. He could not! He would rather be silent until the end of times than lose him.

However, upon reflection, if there was a single chance that by baring his heart and soul to his dearest friend, Dean would get to have the kind of life he could not even dream of having just a few hours ago, the kind of life that would grant him an opportunity to spend the rest of it with the person he loved… Well, wasn’t it worth being brave for? Wasn’t it worth risking their status quo if the reward would be so much more than friendship?

Dean barely followed the rest of the dance. However, Charlie didn’t complain, so he couldn’t have missed any steps or made any wrong turns. Upon its conclusion, Dean accompanied Charlie to the row of chairs and, promising to visit her on the morrow, excused himself with a bow. He was certain that whatever blunders he had committed towards her in terms of gallantry she would forgive him once everything was explained.

Presently he had to clear his head. But more importantly: he had to calm down his heart, bursting with possibility and hope, before rejoining Castiel.

Dean marched towards the doors leading onto the terrace and slipped outside. There, having taken several sobering lungfuls of searing winter air and talking himself into believing that everything would work itself out somehow or other, Dean returned to the room.

The next dance had already begun and, having ascertained that Castiel was not part of the set, Dean went looking for him.

Much to his astonishment he found him stalking from the adjoining room in so hasty and stormy a manner he would have collided with Dean in the doorway had Dean not called his name and checked his progress by putting a halting hand on his chest.

It took a moment for Castiel to recognise him.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Cas? Hey, buddy, are you all right?”

“Dean!”

Castiel, looking disturbed, attempted to smile. “Forgive me, Dean.” He shook his head. “I’m afraid I wasn’t looking where I was going,” 

“I could see that,” replied Dean, carefully studying his countenance.

“I suppose you are wondering what caused my temporary blindness,” continued Castiel before Dean could ask him about it.

“Took the words right out of my mouth, man,” said Dean. “What’s wrong?”

A spasm contorted Castiel’s face.

“I came into this room looking for you,” he replied. “By the time I accompanied Lady Gilda back to her seat I found Miss Middleton already waiting for her there. I expected that you would be with her, but you were not there nor anywhere else in the room. Miss Middleton, other than to inform me that she didn’t expect you to dance the next dance, could not be helpful to me in any other way.”

Dean was struck by shame and wished to apologise, but Castiel went on –

“I proceeded here, made a turn about the room, and came face to face with someone I knew during war under the most unpleasant of circumstances.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “Cas – ”

“He had proved himself the most unprincipled and immoral of all human beings I have ever met in the course of my life. Having turned mercenary during war, he committed countless atrocities against his fellow men with a single objective in mind: his personal gain. The name of the scoundrel is Arthur Ketch.”

Dean’s heart stuttered in his chest.

“My blood boiled in my veins upon seeing him again,” continued Castiel, “walking about without a care in the world. I could not stand so repugnant a sight! I confronted him. I reminded him of his many evil deeds and those poor souls whose blood was on his hands. He merely laughed at my words! I’m sure you will appreciate my shock when, upon casually remarking on seeing us arrive together, he claimed your acquaintance.”

“Cas, many can claim my acquaintance,” replied Dean in a choked voice, hoping against hope that Ketch had kept his big mouth shut.

“I’m aware of that, Dean,” replied Castiel, looking for all intents and purposes as though he was about to smite him. “However,” he growled, his eyes boring into Dean’s, “I hope, for your sake, that very few will be so foolish as to come forward and bluntly claim to have once been your lover.”

Dean wasn’t sure that the floor hadn’t opened beneath his feet for surely… surely... he was falling.

“I imagine the purpose of his narration was an attempt at blackmail,” continued Castiel, breathing through his nose. “I was going to challenge him, of course. But his wife recalled him to the card table before I could issue the challenge. Nevertheless, I believe I succeeded in impressing upon him the perils of spreading such dangerous rumours – such falsehoods – about your person before he retreated. I’m confident he shall never trouble you.”

Dean could not find words to speak. Cas was going to fight a duel for his honour? Cas was ready to sacrifice his life for him under the mistaken assumption that Ketch was lying about their past connection? Ketch was a soulless and conniving bastard who never played fair. Dean preferred not to think about the outcome of that duel should it have taken place.

Guilt-ridden and mortified, he confessed that Ketch had been telling the truth.

“We were… I mean… there was…”

Castiel shook his head. “Dean, now is neither the time nor the place to speak of it.”

He wouldn’t meet Dean’s eye.

“Cas – ”

“I wish to return home,” said Castiel. “However, I do not mean that you should stop enjoying the rest of the evening on my account. I can take a walk home.”

Dean shook his head. “Don’t be absurd. I will order the carriage,” he said quietly. “I do not care staying here without you.”

“Are you certain?” asked Castiel.

“I’m certain.”

“But what about your promise to Sam?”

“Let’s go home, Cas.”

“Dean – ”

“Cas. Please?”


	9. Chapter 9

They didn’t speak in the carriage. The mood, during the short drive that ensued, was bleak to say the least. Dean didn’t dare utter a sound for he was not ready to speak about what was troubling him, and casting an occasional side glance at Castiel’s forbidding profile did not help to set his mind at ease. He didn’t know what Castiel was thinking, deciding that whatever it was, it didn’t bode well for the continuation of their friendship.

The house was empty, silent, and distinctly cold when they arrived; Dean had dismissed their servants earlier that night till the following afternoon.

Without exchanging a single word or even sharing a look, they proceeded (as though by some silent agreement they had reached beforehand) to the formal sitting-room, where they received their rare visitors, instead of the drawing-room, where they had been spending most of their time in perfect harmony: Dean posing and Castiel painting.

Dean began to light the candles and rekindle the fire in the grate as soon as he entered the room in order to provide himself with something to do; for the first time in his life he envied females their ready-made recourse to a work-basket whenever they needed to find employment for their hands in order to disguise the perturbation of their minds.

Having run out of candles and fires to light, he cast around for something else to fix his attention upon and, finding not even a forgotten volume or a newspaper lying around, silently cursed his maid for her efficiency.

Castiel, in the meantime, paced the floor, grim-faced and silent.

Dean attempted to speak several times, but, finding the confusion of his thoughts and the dryness of his mouth an insurmountable obstacle, he finally abandoned his vain attempts.

He was just deliberating whether to pour himself a glass of brandy or to take a seat by the fire when Castiel stopped his pacing and, looking for all intents and purposes as though he had only now realized that he was not alone in the room, addressed Dean with the following –

“I believe I must account for my conduct.”

He smiled and shook his head before taking a seat. Dean stared at him with his mouth open; feeling rather weak in the knees, he was grateful for an excuse to sit down. Why! He had expected Castiel to storm and rage and pour forth reproaches and accusations along with dire warnings of his wretched soul’s inevitable descent into the pit of hell upon the conclusion of his natural life. But he had not expected to be rewarded with a smile!

“I hope you will forgive my obliviosness and inattentiveness, Dean. It was very rude of me to leave you to your own devices upon leaving the ball. My only excuse is that I had much to reflect upon. My mind was occupied with thoughts of the most profound nature that – as evidence suggests – overtook me so completely I nearly forgot myself. For example, I have no recollection of leaving the carriage and coming here whatsoever!”

Dean nodded, feeling lighthearted with relief. “I thought… ” he began tentatively, “I thought you were angry with me, Cas.”

“Angry with you?”

Dean chuckled in spite of himself.

“The amazement upon your face suggests that such a concept is almost beyond your comprehension. However, your expression earlier suggested that you were upset with me.”

“I understand your confusion, Dean,” replied Castiel with another warm smile. “I did not attempt to conceal my emotions and you mistakenly assumed that what you saw had been caused by something you have done. I must hasten to assure you that my anger – I cannot deny that I was angry in part at least – was not directed at you. Believe me, I was not angry with you at all! On the other hand, the mere thought of that corrupt man’s hold over you...”

Dean’s face grew very hot.

“Cas – ”

Castiel shook his head. “Dean, I have seen this man’s effect on people he wants something from. His charm is undeniable and irresistible and nine times out of ten it proves fatal to the object of his attention or desire. I expect a sensitive youth as you were at the time your acquaintance, you easily fell prey to his manipulations.”

Dean could not stand the look in his friend’s eyes: earnest, tender, forgiving. He got up and began to walk up and down the room. “I might have been young and inexperienced, Cas, but I was still responsible for my own choices and actions and their consequences,” he said. “That’s all on me.”

“Dean, you are being too harsh upon yourself. But I do not care for your self-castigation! We are none of us no matter how prudent or cautious or sagacious entirely safe from making mistakes; we are none of us without a sin; and as for the consequences of our choices and actions, I dare say it is a rare case indeed when one can predict with any precision what they might be.”

Dean took a deep breath. “I was eighteen,” he began. “I wanted adventure. I wanted to leave the country and that sheltered and secluded life father imposed upon us. I craved things I knew not how to explain or describe. So when father took us with him to London, I thought that it was my chance to partake of real life. I sneaked out of the house one night and went looking for amusements. It wasn’t long before I met a group of youths with similar intentions and together we threw ourselves into diversions and mischief with reckless abandon. A few nights later we heard about a boxing match taking place some miles out of town and went there. I had rarely seen such a fantastic spectacle. I was mesmerized. That’s when he singled me out. I suppose my eagerness and ignorance must have drawn him in. He approached me and proposed taking it upon himself to educate me on the finer points of the sport. He was gallant and charming and I was completely taken in. I was foolishly naïve and I won’t deny that I was flattered by his attentions. I lost my friends in the crowd during the match and when he offered to take me back to town in his carriage I instantly agreed. I had to return before summons for breakfast. If father discovered my absence… ” Dean shuddered. “He brought me home with great expediency and as we parted he obtained my promise to meet him the following night. I was grateful for his help and so infatuated with his person that I readily gave him my assent. Upon meeting at the appointed hour (he was already waiting for me in his carriage several blocks from our house), he grasped my hands, brought me to his chest, and began to kiss my lips before any words could be uttered. I cannot deny that I had not been unaware of his intentions and therefore anticipated the outcome of our clandestine meeting before joining him that night. I never found out how he knew about my unspoken desires. Could I be so obvious in my desperation and longing for the pleasures of the flesh with my own sex? In any case, I eagerly welcomed forbidden caresses that he was so generously bestowing upon me and when he proposed going to one place where we could further explore our desires I once again agreed. He took me to a molly-house and introduced me to such debaucheries that I could not have thought possible. I am not going to describe to you the scenes I become an observer and an occasional participant of. I was curious and impatient and thrilled and terrified in equal degrees and willing to try almost anything, and whenever I showed hesitation or distaste at something or other that he proposed, he would take me in his arms, whispering in my ear, caressing my flesh, and plying me with drink until I became pliant and willing to do as he pleased. At some point, however, I began to object and struggle more forcefully against some of his desires and he – well – suffice it say that he became much less patient and tender with me.” Dean pushed a trembling hand through his hair. “I was still in his power but now he exerted it over me with the application of force (usually provided by means of his walking stick or horsewhip) and threats rather than with charm and caresses. He threatened to expose my predilections and my nighttime visits to the molly-house to my father, knowing that I would not allow that to happen. One night there was a raid on the molly-house. I got away through the window, having grown quite accustomed to such mode of leaving my own house every night. He didn’t. He was seized with some others and brought to gaol, but by making a deal and telling them more names of those who frequented the place he avoided imprisonment and subsequent trial. I found out about it afterwards. For the time being I believed that I had finally escaped him. I didn’t leave the house at night or otherwise after that. A few days later he came for me. He used my method of sneaking through the window of my bedroom into the house and found me in bed. He was half-drunk, half-mad. He seized me in his arms and started babbling nonsense, while forcing his kisses and caresses upon me. He said that he did not reveal my name to the authorities but that he had given out so many other names that he could not remain in London without fear of retribution and revenge. He wanted us to run away together. He wanted us to live together. He looked and sounded so mad... I was terrified that someone would hear us. If my father had discovered a man in my room in the middle of the night, he would have flayed me alive. I began to struggle. I told him that he should leave – run – and forget about me. He wouldn’t listen. He would have gone to my father if my brother, alerted by the commotion in my room that was right next to his, and deciding that someone must have gotten into the house, had not arrived and hit him with a warming pan. He was so drunk that it proved enough to knock him out and the pan being fortunately empty of coals he had not sustained any other injury. Sammy helped me to get him out of the house through the window and carry him to his carriage that was waiting for him at the usual spot before sneaking back into the house and demanding an explanation. I was terrified that he would return upon sobering up and would speak to my father as he had been threatening to. However, it turned out that more than one officer from his regiment was apprehended that night during the raid and after negotiating and arranging their release, they hastily removed themselves from London. I was safe. Sammy was pretty shaken up about the whole thing and I vowed to myself to put his mind at ease. I rarely stirred out of the house after that and certainly never by sneaking out at night through the window. I spent the rest of my stay in London conducting myself with such subdued propriety my father was convinced some female must have broken my heart. I dutifully played the part, which saved me from unnecessary inquiries, and whenever we went abroad I attempted to flirt with other ladies, doing so with great success. As soon as father concluded his affairs, we returned to the country. I never saw or heard of Ketch ever again.”

Dean drew a deep breath and discovered that he was trembling. The warmth of Castiel’s embrace the next moment was as unexpected as it was welcome. Dean had talked himself hoarse and was now fighting back the flow of tears that had suddenly overcome him, clinging to his friend for comfort. He hadn’t been planning on confessing the whole sordid business, but once he started talking, he couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out, spilling forth the ugly truth. He didn’t want to begin to imagine what Castiel was thinking of him now. Surely he could no longer claim that Dean was entirely blameless! What would he find upon looking into his eyes? Disappointment? Condemnation? Disgust?

Dean reluctantly drew away from so caring an embrace and declared that he needed a drink.

“I will, of course, understand your unwillingness to remain under the same roof with me after my confession,” he said quietly from the sideboard, his hand shaking rather badly as he poured himself a large portion of brandy from the decanter. “I will arrange for your transport back home first thing in the morning. My carriage is at your disposal.” He took a large swig. “I do not expect you to continue my friend – ”

A sudden roar stopped him short.

“Fool!”

Dean’s eyes widened and he spun around to find himself face to face with a rather irate Castiel. He vaguely wondered that he hadn’t heard him cross the room.

“Cas?”

Castiel shook his head. “Do not speak another word on the matter, Dean. I shall not deign your suggestion with a reply,” he said severely, plucking the glass out of Dean’s hand and putting it away before seizing Dean’s shoulders. “In fact, I shall pretend not to have heard it at all. I must commend your courage and bring forth my deepest gratitude for confiding in me so personal and painful a history. I know that it was not done with a light heart. I wish to put your mind at ease and in return share with you one thing that has been plaguing me for the longest of times. I vowed to take my secret to the grave. I convinced myself that I would much rather spend the rest of my life as your friend than lose your companionship by confessing what I felt within my heart. I was held back from speaking of it by my promise to myself as well as by fear that I should ruin our friendship upon revealing to your knowledge that which I should not feel. However, what happened tonight provided me with hope that you will not condemn me for my human weakness. I would not have found the courage to speak had I not been confronted with the evidence of another’s claim on you. My own claim as a friend felt inadequate and wrong. I knew that I could not remain silent another moment. I knew that I must tell you the truth. You must know that well aware that the purpose of your trip to London was to find a wife, I selfishly conceived a plan to spend as many hours with you as could be spared amidst your other obligations in town. I wished to have you to myself and, knowing that it was my last chance, I proposed to paint your portrait as well as to enlist your help with my manuscript, foolishly believing that I could store and preserve the memory of our times together in order to look back upon. However, I can no longer deceive myself into thinking that I can be content with such… half-life. Dean – ”

Dean had started smiling half-way through Castiel’s speech and had now snaked his arms around his waist. “Upon my word, Cas, I didn’t realize that you could be so devilishly cunning,” he murmured, pressing their foreheads together. “I’m truly impressed.”

“I’m glad you approve of my cunning ways,” replied Castiel, caressing Dean’s flushed cheek.

“I believe you deserve a reward for all your hard work,” whispered Dean, looking at him from beneath his eyelashes before lowering his gaze to his mouth.

Castiel cleared his throat.

“I could not agree more.”


	10. Chapter 10

Suffice it to say that they did not talk much after that. The kiss that followed was slow and tender and long, their touches tentative and lingering, carrying the weight of years of longing and unspoken words as they explored each other’s mouths.

At one point, dazedly coming up for breath, Dean intertwined his fingers with Castiel’s and tugged him across the sitting-room floor. Castiel, swiftly catching his meaning, grabbed the candle along the way with his free hand and dutifully followed Dean upstairs to his bedroom on the second floor, whereupon, having deposited the candle on the chest of drawers, they began to undress each other in an unhurried dance.

Their tailcoats and waistcoats, breeches and shirts, stockings and shoes were unbuttoned and unfastened and pulled off without requiring much care or posing much difficulty to their owners. In fact, it was not until Dean began to loosen the knot of Castiel’s neck-cloth (without breaking the kiss) that they were obliged to discontinue what had become a rather ferocious battle of tongues and turn their immediate attention to that particularly stubborn item of clothing.

At length they defeated a complicated piece of puzzle that Dean had constructed some hours earlier, greeting their victory with a holler of triumph. Then, finding the whole thing rather funny, they were soon both overcome with an unprecedented fit of the giggles and clutching at each other for support eventually collapsed in a tangled heap on the floor.

Their kissing naturally resumed as soon as their giggles subsided with greater urgency and passion than before. Now, having parted with the last barrier that separated their bodies, they could finally touch and taste each other’s naked flesh unimpeded and uninterrupted in the fluttering light of a single candle.

But even passion-struck lovers could not long remain insensible to the draughtiness of the room and the coldness of the floor beneath their frenzied bodies in the middle of winter. The change of situation and position speedily executed, they were soon lying side by side, concealed within the heavy folds of the four-poster bed, their bodies in constant motion, their manhoods rubbing together, seeking friction and release, provoking gasps and moans and oaths, their fingers exploring every inch of skin, shivering and shuddering beneath their sweaty palms, finding and teasing and kissing and licking every sensitive spot…

~~*~~

Dean didn’t want to open his eyes or move from the warm cocoon of Castiel’s embrace. He felt cherished and satiated as though after a particularly satisfying dream. He smiled contentedly upon recollecting that it wasn’t a dream at all. A low rumbling chuckle beneath his cheek forced him to crack one eye open.

He found Castiel looking fondly at him. 

“Good morning, Dean,” he said in a voice that sounded lower and rougher than usual. “I trust you slept well?” he continued, his mouth twitching in amusement.

Dean chuckled. “Well, look at you, Cas! So bold first thing in the morning. However, to answer your question: I have never slept better.”

Castiel smiled and tenderly caressed Dean’s cheek. “I’m glad to hear that. I thought you might have. Indeed, you looked so very peaceful and pleased, I did not wish to disturb your sleep.” He chuckled. “Though, I must confess, I felt rather impatient to taste your lips again.”

Dean’s cheeks flushed in anticipation. “Let me not stand in the way of your impatience then,” he replied with a smirk. “Frankly, we have wasted so much precious time that could have been spent kissing, we probably should not stop at all if we wish to make up for it at some point.”

Castiel laughed and did not hesitate to bring their mouths together again.

It could have been a much longer kiss indeed had Dean’s stomach remained quiet. However, it continued to rumble and grumble until two lovers were forced to break apart in order to feed it.

Dean promptly raided the cook’s pantry, expecting that that good woman had left them some sustenance. Castiel, who had gone to his room to get dressed, came downstairs to find the breakfast table laid with a platter of cold mutton, some bread and cheese, mince pies, and sweetmeats. Dean, feeling rebellious and uninhibited, was wearing his grey dressing-gown.

As soon as his stomach was appeased, Dean climbed astride Castiel to continue their interrupted kiss. “I swear I could do this for eternity,” he whispered against Castiel’s cheek during a much-needed pause that ensued some time later, his hands buried in his lover’s tousled hair.

Castiel nodded – then: “I will leave church,” he said simply. “I have some money in my own right. Enough to rent a small house on the estate or else purchase some old farm nearby… I wish I could wake up with you in my arms every morning...” He frowned, shaking his head. “However… I suppose that you are still intending to get married?”

Dean laughed, taking Castiel’s face in his hands and kissing him softly on the lips. “Cas, sunshine, I intend to have us both married before the season is over in such a way that we will be able to wake up in each other’s arms as many mornings as we want without concealing the truth from our wives. It will be a perfect arrangement!”

Castiel stared at him in dumbfounded bewilderment before finally exclaiming, “But what is this, Dean? Are you raving?”

Dean shook his head. “I am raving not, my friend!” he cried. “I know how great your dislike for any for of deception is. I know that you would grow weary of constant deception that we would be forced to practise under such circumstances as would be unavoidable in order to maintain our relationship once my marriage took place. However, what I propose is but a small act of defiance and deceit against the world that is determined to bar us from being together. At home among our family and friends we won’t have to conceal what we are to one another. In fact, we won’t even have to share beds with our wives!”

Castiel continued to stare at him in amazement and disbelief. “This does not seem possible! Dean, can you speak plainly? I am quite fond of your teasing nature but I have no patience with your conundrums at the moment.”

In growing agitation, Castiel gripped Dean’s hands in his and entreated him with greater vehemence still. Dean promptly obliged him with a short narration of Lady Gilda’s history and Charlie’s plan.

“So what do you say, Cas?” he asked him afterwards, pressing their foreheads together. “We could get married by special license right here in London and then travel together to my estate in order to settle our matters before removing ourselves to Arkhmoor. I’m sure we can dwell on the finer points once we have spoken to the ladies. But... perhaps,” he added after a short pause during which Castiel hadn’ said a word, “perhaps it is unfair of me to ask this much of you?”

Dean studied Castiel’s countenance, growing more concerned, worrying his lower lip. “In which case, I swear I shall not insist or speak of it ever again. Cas, we can forget about the whole thing! Just do not think too ill of me for suggesting such an enterprise. At the time I thought that entering a marriage of convenience – moreover without any conjugal expectations or obligations – would allow us to pursue our relationship without sacrificing ourselves to constant deception. We would be together on our own terms. However – ”

“No, I see what you mean,” replied Castiel at long last. He looked thoughtful but not unhappy, tracing the contours of Dean’s face as though mesmerized. “I didn’ speak before now because I was listening to you, Dean. I suppose you mean to marry Miss Middleton? My acquaintance with Lady Gilda has been too short to allow me to give my immediate consent,” he continued upon receiving Dean’s nod; “such a decision should not be made lightly or hastily. I hope you understand. However, I believe that once I get to know her better, I could imagine being her husband of convenience. I expect they are not planning on staying in England for long?”

“I believe they plan to resume their travelling as soon as Lady Gilda inherits her fortune and property.” Dean’s eyes sparkled. “We could call upon them today. I’m sure it would not look out of place for two young gentlemen to visit two ladies they danced with at the ball the other day. In fact, this is precisely what we need for the rumour to start that we wish to court them.” Dean chuckled. “Imagine the shock it will cause when it comes about that a humble vicar from the country has made a conquest of the richest heiress in the kingdom in the course of a single dance!”

“Yes, I expect the shock will be quite severe,” replied Castiel with a shake of his head. “Such mesalliance! I shudder to think what the general consensus is going to be.”

“Let us not think about it just now,” suggested Dean, standing up and stretching.

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “But what do you propose we do then?”

Dean looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. “We have several hours more at our disposal until the servants’ return,” he replied. “And I distinctly remember you promising to do certain things to me last night that you have been wishing to do to me for ages…”

Dean smirked and held out his hand. Castiel took it and brought it to his lips. “Upon my soul,” he murmured, getting to his feet and wrapping one of his arms around Dean’s waist, “I would be the worst of rascals indeed to break my promise now.”

“Ah… Cas”, sighed Dean dramatically, batting his eyelashes at him, “I knew I could count on your word of a gentleman.”

Teasing and joking each other in their habitual manner, they hurried upstairs, where – I’m certain there can be no doubt in anyone’s mind on that score – they proceeded to indulge in a variety of forbidden carnal pleasures and practices to great effect and mutual satisfaction.

FINIS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you've reached the end and enjoyed the story, consider taking a minute to drop me a line! I'd love to know what you think.


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